«     [* 


C  K 


EMOJ^IAL 


WAR    AND    PEACE. 


MARY    BRAINARD. 


PUBLISHED        BY        THE        AUTHOR. 


KOCKFORD.    ILLINOIS: 

(iAZETTE    STFAM    BOOK  AND  JOB  PRINTING;  HOUSE. 

1S73- 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1873,  by 

MARY     BRAIN  AKI). 
In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress. 


TO 


JJf  Jmtf  |,|f,  j.  J.  |, 

ROCKFORD,    ILL., 

THIS   BOOK 


Respectfully  'Dedicated 


THE     AUTHOR. 


CONTENTS 


THE  McNIELS. 

PAGI 

THE  HOMESTEAD. 

9 

THE  MEETING-HOUSE. 

*! 

THE   DESOLATE. 

40 

WAR,     . 

45 

THE  HOSPITAL.    . 

80 

HOME. 

113 

YEARS  AGO. 

RETROSPECTIVE. 

131 

LUCKECE, 

140 

WITHOUT  GOD, 

154 

THE  WILDERNESS. 

.      170 

PEACE, 

186 

LOVE  AND    YOUTH. 

.       KM 

LOYAL, 

1% 

THE   LOST. 

.       198 

THE  SINGER.       . 

202 

ROLL  ON. 

20fi 

THE  McNIELS. 


THE  HOMESTEAD. 

SING  of  what  the  days  have  been, 

And  what  the  days  will  be  ; 
I    sing  of  life    and  life's  reward 
As  it  appears  to  me. 

I  sing  of  sorrow   sanctified. 

Of  trial  overpast  ; 
T  catch  the  meaning  as    I   can 

Of  every  shadow  cast. 


10  THE    MCN'IELS. 

As    I  go  out    in   harvest  time, 

To  glean   among  the    sheaves, 
I  try   to  learn   the   tracery   of 

The  sunlight  on    the   leaves. 

I   analyze,   at   eventide, 

The   thoughts   that  go    and    come. 
When   the  eye  is  fixed  on  vacancy 

And  the   dreamer's  lips   are   dumb. 

I    have   only   taken    one   little  leaf, 

Where   the  forest   of  dead    leaves    fall, 

And   sent  it  afloat  on   the  ocean   of  life — 
God  guard  it,    who  guideth  all  ! 

An   Eastern  river,    flowing  down, 

Doth   glide    past   hamlet,    woodland,    town, 

Doth   widen,  deepen,   all   the  way 

From   upland   spring   to  ocean  hay. 

Along  that  winding  river  bank 


THE    HOMESTEAD.  I  | 

A  turnpike  winds,  and  wild   and  rank 
The  woods  that  skirt  a  reedy  tarn, 
Give  place  to  field  and  grain-filled  barn ; 
On  either  side  that  turnpike  lay 
The  farm  of  farmer  Ethan  Day. 

.Four  decades,   like  a  transient  dream, 
Have  come  and  gone;  so  short  thev  seem, 
That  all   betwixt  that  day  and  this 

Might  vanish  into  nothingness; 

/ 

.But  what  a  world  of  weal  and  woe, 
Of  birth   and    death-pangs   con.e  and  go, 
And   leave  no  trace  while   passing  by, 
On   fair  green    earth   or   axure   sky. 

O'er    acres  broad   of  leveled  grain. 
The  binders  toiled   with   might  and   main; 
For  though  the  pulse  of  earth  seemed  still. 
With   distant   growl,   behind   the   hill 


12  THE    MGNIELS. 

Storm    fi  rces   crouched,   till    upward   crowd 
The   purple   peaks    of  thunder-cloud. 

Upon   his  fence  leaned   Ethan   Day, 
And   wiped    great  beads   of  sweat  away 
From   sun  browned  brow   and   iron-gray 
That  hung  above;   "Comes   mighty  fast: 
A  good  share  must  be  wet  at  last," 
He   muttered,   as  he   turned   his   eye 
Now   on   the   field,   now   on  the   sky. 

Just  then   two   travelers  came  down 
Along  the  road  from   Beacon  town, 
Whoe   Highland   garb   and   bonnet  loose 
Told   of  the  land  of  Burns  and    Bruce; 
Old   Ethan's  brow    unbent  a  smile, 
"  Come    bear  a   hand    and    help   awhile." 
The    lads   o'erlept   the  fence,    where  they 
Wrought   side  by    side   with    Farmer  Day, 


THE    HOMESTEAD. 

Awkward    somewhat,    but    ready    will 
Supplying    lack    of   use    and    skill. 
The    sheaves    were    garnered,    and    the    rain 
Fell,    but    fell    not    on    Ethan's    grain. 

The    weeks    of  harvest  passed    away  : 

Still    on    the    farm    of   Farmer    Day 

The    brothers    found     employ. 

Corn,    golden-eared,    was    gathered    in  ; 

And    ripened    fruit,    in    many    a    bin, 

Was    heaped    with    grateful   joy. 

Well    pleased    was    Ethan    with    the    sense, 

The    sterling    worth,    intelligence, 

His    Scottish    lads    displayed. 

Well    pleased    were   James    and    Dan    McNiel 

To    find    a   place    where    they    could    feel 

So    home-like,    while    they    stayed. 

Thus    lingering    on,    from    year   to    year, 

Through    summer's    toil    and    winter's    cheer, 


1 4  TUP:  MCNIELS. 

Seed-time    and    harvest    days, 
The    brothers    grew    at    last    to    be 
Part    of  the    farmhouse    family, — 
So    well    they    learned    its    ways. 

Where,    willow-fringed,    the    river    flowed, 
Beside    the    winding    valley   road  ; 
Where,    sloping    back,   the    sunny    hill 
Merged    into    meadows    green    and     still, 
Enclosed    in    orchard,    like    a    wood, 
The    old,    deep-gabled    farmhouse    stood. 
It   caught   the   earliest    sunlight    gleams  ; 
Looked    wierd    and    castle-like    in    beams 
Of   moonlight    through    the   trees— 
So    hushed,    retired,  that    all    day    long 
Your    heart    kept    beating    to    the    song 
Of  birds    and    humming    bees. 

Upon    the    parlor    wall    there    hung, 
And    still    doth    hang,    two    faces,    young 


THE    HOMESTEAD.  f- 

And  radiantly  fair; 

Twin  daughters  of  the  house   were  they — 

The  hope,  the  pride  of   Farmer  Day, 

The   darlings  of  his  care. 

Belle   was   a  beauty  —  deep   and   bright, 

And   ebon   as  the  starless  night 

Her  laughter-loving  eyes, 

In   flush  of  health,   in  dancing   curl, 

A  woven  charm   enwrapped   the   girl — 

An   ever  glad   surprise, 

But  Nellie,   with   the   self-same  grace 

Of  feature,   form,   and   fair  young   face, 

Like   starlight  to   the  sun, 

Shone  with   a   pale,  retiring  grace, 

A   brow   that  shamed   at    honest  praise— 

A  meek,  lone-hearted  one. 

I  said   the  lads   were   pleased   to  stay, 
Till  months  and   seasons  passed  away, 


l6  THE    MCN'IELS. 

And   blythe   the  old   house    grew; 

For  healthful   hearts,   unvexed   by   pride, 

Made   merry   round  the   inglende 

Long  winter  evenings   through, 

Till,  by  and   by,   as  age   crept    on, 

The   good   man,   looking   o'er   his   lands, 

Feeling  the   need   of  clearer    head 

And   younger  hands, 

Did  just   as  I  would  do : 

He  halved   his  farm    in  equal   parts 

And  gave  his  daughters  where  their  hearts 

Had  fixed  in   instinct  true. 

Together   in   the  farmhouse  wide, 

A  few  short  years  they   did   abide, 

Then  James  and   Belle   marked    out   a   spot 

For    home  on   their    apportioned   lot, 

Beyond  the  dairy    spring, 

So    near  that    little   toddling  feet 


THE    HOMESTKAD. 

Could   cross  the  way,   and  voices   sweet 
With    blended  notes  could    sin^. 

o 

And  thus  it   was,  bewildered,  wild 

With   loneliness,   I  stood  a  child 

Beside   my   mother's  grave— 

A   birdling,   cast   with  wounded    wing, 

To  earth,   a  timid,   helpless  thing. 

One   hand   was    stretched   to  save, 

Was  gently  laid  upon   my  head, 

And  gentle-toned  the  voice  that  said, 

"  Poor  child !     all,  all  alone." 

God  bless  him!     Good  it  was  to  feel 

The  strong  right  arm  of  James  McNiel 

Around  the  orphan  thrown: 

And  srood — so  £ood  that  even  now 

o  o 

I  feel  its  soft  touch  on  my  brow, 

Though  decades  intervene. 

The  kindly  touch  that  banished    pain, 


I  8  THE    McMELS. 

That  fair  face,   mingling  with  the  train 
Of  fevered  fancies  wildered,  vain, 
That  come  and  go  and  come  again, 
And  clothe  my  world  of   dreams. 

Another  shadow  seems    to  stand 

From  out  the  past;    in  waxen  hands, 

Spring  violets  folded,  half  unblown, 

The  earliest,  opening  alone 

Within  the  forest  dell. 

(Clouds  floating  slowly,  far  and  high — 

Like  dream-land,  floating  silently — 

Sunshine  and  shade  alternately 

Upon  a  casket  fell. 

A  mother,  lily-like  and  pale, 

Tears  falling  through  a  mourning  vail 

Upon  her  earliest  born, 

A  baby-face,  with  half-shut  eyes 

Blue  as  the  sky,  the  glad  surprise 


THE    HOMESTEAD. 

Of   breaking    smile    at    morn, 
Then,    empty    arms,    and    hungered    hearts, 
And    life    all    tasteless    for    a    while  ; 
Then    strivings    vain,    and    loving    arts, 
To    raise    the    wonted    smile. 

As    fair    a    maid    was    Annie     Lee 
As    one    might    ever   hope    to    see  ; 
As    fair    a    maid,    as    fond    a    wife, 
As    ever    crossed    the    deeps    of  life, 
Or    dared,    from    girlhood's    sunnv   bav, 
The    storm-tracked    billows    of  the    way. 
A    wife    and    mother,    blessed,    she    found 
Life,  for    a    while,    all    blessing-crowned  ; 
And    then,    the    tempest    of  the    night 
Swept    all    her    loved    ones    from    her    sight 
And    she,    dismantled    and    alone, 
A    wreck    upon    the    rocks    was    thrown. 


-O  THK    MCNIELS. 

Into    the    merry    sunshine,    went 

Her    merry,    winsome   boy  ; 

Back    to    her    heart    his    ringing    shout 

Brought    message    of  his  joy  ; 

The    glow    of  pride    still    in    her    eye. 

His    good-by    kiss    still    warm  ; 

Without    one    warning    chill,    or    sigh, 

A    lifeless,    stiffening    form. 

The    drowned,    with    fair    curls    dripping    wet, 

And    lips    all    blue    and    cold, 

And    dreadful    staring    eyes,    death-set, 

Borne    back    into    her    fold. 

Then,    ere    the    moon    had    waned    six    times, 

And    six    times    filled    her    horn, 

The    father    by    his    dead    boy    slept  ; 

And    she,    bereaved,    forlorn, 

Did    plead,    in    vain,    with    God    to    die. 

She    might   not    lay    life's    burden    by, 

She    might    not    rest    in    death  ;    she    bore 

The    mother's    promise,    not    before 


THE     HOMESTEAD. 

That  germ  of  life  awoke  to  dav, 
So,  conscious  only  of  her  woe, 
Months  dragged  like  years  -A\\  ay. 

And  then  the  snows  of  Christmas  fell,. 

Like  God-gifts,   silently, 

And  earth  enrobed  in  spotless  white, 

And  bending  shrub  and  tree, 

Looked  pure  as  heaven-born  holiness  — 

As  spotless  charity  ' 

Unwelcomed  e'en  by   mother-love, 

Came  Annie's  blue-eyed  boy, 

Yet  fair  enough  to    change  the  wail 

Of  sorrow   into  joy; 

"  O,  bear  the   babe   away,   away" 

Thus  wailed  her  pleadings   wild 

"No  more   shall   heart  of  mine  entwine 

About  another  child  ! " 

Half-crazed,  the  woman   dwelt  alone, 


.23  THK     McMELS. 

We  who  were   children    then 

Did  fear  to  pass  her  door,  as  one 

To  pass   a    wild  wolf-den;   • 

Then   into  Nellie's  empty  arms, 

And  into  Nellie's  heart, 

The  babe,  deserted,  crept  and  found 

A  faithful   mother's  part. 

'Twas   Sabbath   twilight,  and    we   strayed 

Where  James  his   home  foundation    laid, 

The  children,   Belle   and   I. 

How  o'er  the  hills   of  long  ago, 

Comes   back  the  silvery,   silent  glow 

Of  moon,   new-risen,  red  and  low, 

•Comes  back   the   solitary   cry 

Of  whippoorwill  from   o'er  the  stream, 

The  shimmering  white   vibrating  beam 

Athwart  the  wavelets   flow, 

'That  dashed   like  play    upon   the    sand, 


THE    HOMESTEAD. 

That  washed   the  pebbles  from    the   strand. 

Again   I   hear  the   low, 

Deep  music  of  that  solemn    hour. 

And  feel   the  weird   enchanting-  power 

Of  river,  rock,    and  dreaming  flower, 

That  dreamed   so   lone  :i°ro. 

*"*  O 

The    wee   ones  frolicked,  hand  in   hand, 
Among  the  stones  along  the  sand, 
But    I,  a  child   of  ten, 
Felt — for  those  few   eventful   vears, 
Had  deepened   by   the  weight  of  tears— 
Almost  a   woman  then. 
Among  the  timbers  framed  and    planned 
Her  home  to  rear,  the  wife  did  stand; 
Mv   little   fingers  clasped   her  hand — 
Was  it   the  moonlight,  like   a  vail, 
Upon   her  cheek   and   lips   so    pale  ? 
Was  it  some  silent,  hidden  grief, 
That  shook   her  like  the  blasted   leaf? 
She    sank    in    weakness   to   the   ground, 


24  THE     MCNIKI.S. 

And   I,  I  clasped  my  arms  around 
My   more  than    mother,   till 
She   calmer  grew,  and,  with  a  .smile, 
Hade  me  go  join  the  play   awhile. 
But   I,  with  childish  will, 
Crept  in  the  shadow  of  a  tree, 
Unheard  to  hear,  unseen  to  see; 
For,  O,  I   feared  some  day, 
The  same  sad  destiny  that  gave 
My  precious  mother  to  the  grave, 
Would  snatch  her  too  away. 

Deeming  herself  unnoticed   now, 

With  hand   hard   pressed    upon   her  brow, 

She  murmured,  "  It   will   rise  at  last, 

"But  not  for  me  its  shadow  cast. 

My   feet   shall   ne'er  return  or    roam, 

Or  cross  the  threshold  of  this  home; 

Else  why  this  death-toll  in  mine   ears, 


THE    HOMESTEAD. 

And   why   these  dark  foreboding  fears, 

Xot   wont  am   I   to  he 

So   weak."     And  then   her  one  wee  child 

Looked   up  ir.to  her  eves  and  smiled, 

Hut   when   .she  called  to  me, 

From   brmv  was  banished  trace  of  pain. 

She  .seemed   her'own  bright  self  again. 

Ope  thou   the  scroll  of  fate  and  show, 

In  each   home  history   here  below, 

The  days  of  weal,  the  days  of  woe, 

Doom-days  and   marriage  bliss, 

As  time,  with   sure  recording  hand, 

Marks  this  a  day   of  peace  to  stand, 

And   that  of  bitterness. 

Anon,  a   shadow   cast  before, 

Pall-like  and   tinged   with   gloom,  spreads  o'er 

The  dial-face  of  love. 

Anon,  destruction  springs  to  birth, 


26  THE    MCN1ELS. 

And  blights  the  beauty  of  the  earth, 
And  blots  the  stars  above. 

I   may   not  tell  how   many  days 

Passed  in   their  old  accustomed  ways, 

1   know   that  dim  and   high, 

And  waning  in  the  eye  of  morn, 

The  ghost-like  moon  did  glide  forlorn 

Toward  the  western  sky. 

I  know  the  rose-vine  clambering  e'er 

Its  lattice  by  the  shaded  door, 

Gave  promise  then  of  bloom — 

Now  backward  leaning  from   its  stay, 

Burdened   with  blossoms  fell  away — 

Upon  that  day  of  doom. 

I   know,  'twas  planned  the  night  before, 

To  take  the   skifF  and  row  us  o'er 

To  Alden's  field,' where,  well  we  knew, 

Strawberries  in  abundance  grew. 


THE    HOMESTEAD. 

We  older  children,    with  the  freight 
Of  coining  joy,  could  scarcely  wait 
The  slow-winged  hours, 
Until  our  tiny,   well-filled  boat 
Of  happy  hearts  was   set  afloat, 
Along  the  bank  of  flowers. 

We  all,  that  morning,   seemed  to  be 
The  embodiment  of   gaiety. 
Now  one  would   seixe  and   ply   the  oar, 
Now  shout  to  grandma   on  the  shore; 
The  bird-like  warble  of  our   song 
Echoed  the   river  lengths   along. 
And   need  I  tell   you   as   I   pass, 
How,  down  among  the  bending  grass 
We  bent  the   scarlet   fruit  to  pull, 
Till  sun  was  low  and  pails    were  full. 

We  drew  toward  home,  I  scarce    can  tell, 
By   some   mad,  playful  prank   of  Belle. 


28  THE    McXIELS. 

The  hoat  o'erturned,   and   young  and    old 
Were  struggling  in   the   water's   fold. 
I   know   I   sank,  and   rose  and   sank, 
Then  for   a  space   'twas   all   a  blank, 
And   then,  upon   the  river  bank 
I   la}',   and   saw   as  in   a   dream, 
The   children    rescued   from   the  stream. 
I   saw,  borne   downward   by  tide, 
One  wild   face  'neath  the  waters  hide, 
With   hands  up-reaching   as  to   cling- 
To  life,  a  flashing  marriage  ring. 
Then  blackness  settled  like   a  pall, 
And   nothing    more  can    I   recall  : — 
Yes,   I   remember   faces   white 
And  set   as  death  ;     and  all  that  night, 
By    ghostly    torch    and    beacon   light, 
The   neighbors   dragged   the   river's  bed 
In   fruitless  searching  for  the  dead  ; 
And   I   remember  days  of  pain, 
When  even  speech   seemed   task-like,  vain, 


THE     HOMESTEAD.  z:) 

And   one   who   never  smiled   again. 
Another  stroke    was    never   laid 
On    that    new    home,   beneath    the    shade 
Of  the   old    homestead,  doubly   dear, 
We   dwelt   together  year  by   year. 

Did    I    not   say    the    child    of  ten 
Was    scarce    a    child,    that    even    then 
She   questioned    life    with    deepest    view, 
As    one    who    reads    its    mysteries    through  ; 
As   one    who,    up    in    the    earlv    dawn, 
Goes    out    upon    an   upland    lawn, 
Finds    all    the    dew    of    morning   gone  ; 
Yet,    doubtless,    girlhood's    opening    rose 
Had     richer    tints    and    sweeter    bloom, 
The    summer  charm    that    romance    throws 
Like    wreaths    of  ivv    o'er    the    tomb; 
Doubtless,    new    rooted    in    the    soil, 
The    plant    of  hope    took    form    above; 


30  THE    Me  NIELS. 

For    where    are   desert    fields    of  toil, 
Too    barren   for    the    plant    of  love, 
All    that    was    over   long    ago; 
Not    of  myself  this    tale    is    told; 
Of   richer   lives,    with    hope    aglow  ; 
Of  young    hearts,    folded    in    the    fold 
Of  guardian    care — parental    pride — 
That    grew    to    beauty    by    my    side. 

Of  Helen,    now,    the    motherless, — 
The    one    wee    nestling    left    behind, 
With    not    one    trace    of  mother's    face, 
With    not    one   trait   of  mother's    mind, — 
Tall,    fragile,    fair,   the     slight    form    swayed 
Like    fern    leaf  in    the    forest   glade: 
She   seemed    the    graceful    mountain    maid 
Of    Scotia — far    off  land. 
James    often    said    his    mother    there 
Had   those    gold-lighted    locks    of   hair, 


THE    HOMESTEAD.  -,  j 


When    last    he    saw    her    stand 

Framed    in    their    cottage   door  ;  and    she 

Her    last    good-by    had    wept    and    kissed  : 

Then    saw    the    dear    home    picture    melt 

Into    the    morning    mist. 

From   her,    he    said,    came    all    that    quaint 

Deep    earnestness    of  soul, 

That    made    the    maiden    half  a    saint  ; 

Timid,    and    yet    so    bold  ; 

That    trust   in    God's    unwearied    care  ; 

That    inward    purencss    born    of    praver. 

I    told    you    of  twin    sisters    fair 

Within    the    walls    of  home. 

I    said,    with    life-song   half  unsung, 

That    one    so    radiant   and    so    young 

Had    vanished    like    the   foam 

That    tips    the   crest    of  ocean    wave, 

Windrocked    above    her    unknown    grave. 


32  THK     McMELS. 

But    o'er    the    hillside    where    she    roamed 

In    girlhood's    glee    and   pride  ; 

And    when    they    met    to    worship    God 

Around    the    ingleside, 

In    morning    hymn    of  praise, 

At    evening's    sacred  close, 

Was    one  as    like    her    as    the    hud, 

Half  opened,    to    the    rose  ;  — 

But    this    was    Nellie's    girl  :     oh,    well, 

To    name   her    as    they    called    her,    Belle. 

For    friend    and    yillager    who    stood 

To    bless    her    as    she    passed    their    door. 

Felt,    in    the    rush    of   memory's    flood, 

The    welling    of  a    ne\  ermore. 


THE    MEETING-HOUSE. 

A    mile   away,   and    yet   in   sight, 

Clasped   by   its  groye  of  eyergreen, 


THE    MEETIXG-HOUSE. 

With   heavenward  finger,  pointing   white 

And   high  above  its  leafy  screen, 
Our   meeting-house — the  house  of  God 

Surrounded  by   God's  acre  old, 
Where  we  with   reverent  footsteps  trod, 

Where  the  sweet  gospel   news  was  told. 
Before  its  altar,  infant  brows 

Grew   radiant  with  the  mystic  seal  ; 
Beside  its  altar,  marriage  vows 

Gave  answer  to  the  merrv   peal 
Of  bridal  bells  ;    and  through   its  gates 

The  old,  the  young,  the   rich,  the  poor, 
Brought    hither  bv  their  mourning  mates, 

Were  laid  to  rest  forevermore. 

Rememberest  thou  the  spirit-tide 

That  swept  the  churches  like  a  flood  ? 

Rememberest  thou  three  years  therefrom 
The   nation  was  bapti/ed  in  blood  ? 


34  T1IE    Me  MI  ELS. 

Rcmemberest  thou  how  hand  in  hand 

And  heart  to  heart  the  churches  stood, 
Old   feuds  forgotten  ;    through  the  land 

A   God-led,  Christian  brotherhood  ? 
Rememberest    thou  that  Mercy's  pool 

Was    troubled  to  its  center-depths 
By  faith  and  prayer  man   measured  out, 

Divine  compassion   length   and  breadth  ? 
Rememberest  thou,  like  that  of  old, 

"A  going  in  the  mulberry  trees?" 
lie  who   was  wise  and  saw  afar, 

He   who  could   read  such  signs  as  these  ; 
And   he  whose  heart  had  come  to  beat 

One   with   the   Infinite,  could   tell 
The  arm   victorious  gathered   strength 

Against  the  opposing  host  of  hell. 
The  pastor  heard   it  ; — all   his  soul 

With   awe   was   filled,  with   wonder   bowed  ; 
With   Christ  communing  face  to  face 

He  entered  in   the  cloud. 


THE    MEETING-HOUSE. 

The  ciders   heard,  and  trembling  hands 

Held   forth  the  bread  and  wine  ; 
And  eyes  aflame  with  love  did  search 

The  Oracle  divine. 

Lips,  sealed  by   fear,  from  dumbness  woke, 

And  light  on  clouded  vision  broke  ; 

The   Cross,  long  trailing  in  the  dust, 

Grew   radiant  with  wreaths  of  trust. 

The  loved,  the  wayward,  the  unwarned, 

Heard,  at  the  solemn   midnight  hour, 

Their  names  in  tones  of  pleading  power. 

New  altars  rose  at  eve  ;    at  morn 

New  prayers  were  prayed,  and  old  set  form 

Was  broken  like  the  winter's    chain, 

When  Spring  by  love  and  light  (.loth   reign. 

Proud  hearts  grew  strangely  burdened  and  oppressed; 

Great  thoughts  of  God  broke  in  upon    their    rest: 

Life  and  Life's  deep  enigmas  pressed  them  sore— 


30  THE    McMKLS. 

The  solemn  echoes  of  a  nevermore — 
Till,  loathing  sin's  caresses,  free  and   fond, 
A    longing  rose  for  purer  life  beyond. 

The   startled  host  of  Satan  knew  it  well, 

And   strengthened  their  defences  as  they   might. 
The   red  saloon,  with  eye  malignant,  fell 

To  claim   its  prev,  the  votarv  of  the  night  : 
And  strangely  frequent  grew  the  midnight  dance  ; 

And  sweet  young  voices  prayed  and  prayed  to  go — 
Making  of  death  a  long  eternal  choice — 

And   to  the   voice  of  warning  answering   no. 
These   times  of  choosing,  how   they   ebb   and   flow, 

Like   tidal-wave   upon   the   lives  of  all; 
These  times  of  choosing-,  how  the}'  come  and  go, 

And   pass  beyond   redemption  or  recall  ! 
(),  saddest  of  all   memories  at  the  close, 

That  youth's  bright  warp  be   filled  with  threads  of 

[sin, 


THE     M'EKTIXG -HOUSE. 

When,  'neath  the    weary  shuttle,  grows  and  grows 
The   web  of  destiny,  "The   might  have  been  !" 

That   short  December  dav   drew  to  a  close  ; 

Persistently   the   great  snow  crystals    tell. 

/ 

The  mo  on   at  full,  but  veiled  bv   storm,  arose, 

Rose  dimlv,   as  a   vision   or  a    spell. 
'Tvvas   (rod's  own   dav;    and   like  a  beacon    light 

S'lone   the   far   windows  of  our  bowerecl   church  ; 
Long  tints  of  ilame  athwart  the  snow-drift  white, 

On   leailess  branches  of  the  silver  birch, 
()a   laden  evergreen  and   hazel  bowed, 

And  <Mi   the  faces  of  the  gathering  crowd 
Lav   like   a   benediction   golden,  bright. 

Around   the  blessed   altar,  bathed  in   tears. 

Gathered   the  tried  ones,  who,  for  long,  long  years. 

Had  borne  the  burden  of  His  sacred  cross, 

And  counted,   for  His  sake,  all  things  but  loss. 


38  THE  MCNIELS. 

As    vows  of  new-pledged  fealty   arose, 
New  peace  descended,  filling  all  desire — 

The  same  baptismal  blessing  that  of  old 

Crowned  each  disciple  with  its  tongue  of  fire. 

The   white  and   red,  each  striving  to  prevail 
On  Helen's  cheek.     Beside  the  altar  rail 
She  stood  in  timid  boldness,  quiet,  meek 
And  spirit-bound,  till  gathering  strength  to  speak 
u  I  ever  loved  the  Master,  Christ,  but  this, 
This  dav   I    wed   my  soul   to  Him  and   His." 
But   oh,  the  contrast  !     By   the  dear  child's  side- 
She   fair  and  pure  enough   to  be   favored    bride 
Of  heaven — stood    one  so  shrunken  and  so  old  ;- 
A  world  of  wasted  fire  to  ashes  cold 
Burned  down  ;     a  world  of  fevered  d reruns  ; 
A  world  of  anguish  with  its  death-mark  seems 
Lettered  upon  that  brow  in  lines  of  care, 
And   written  in  the  folds  of  time-bleached   hair  ; 


THE    MEETIXG-norSK.  ,Q 

Hut  from   the   'wildered  eye  all   madness    swept 
Or  melted   into   meekness  as  she  wept. 
We  sang,  «  There  is  a  fountain   filled  with  blood  ;" 
And   poor  crazed   Anna  in  that   healing  flood 

Redemption    found  ;     found    reason's    long    dimmed 

[light 
Rekindled  ;  found   the  long  woeful  night 

Fled  ;    with  recreated  peace  complete, 
Sat    down   a   meek   disciple    at    His    feet. 

Need    I    to    tell    of  other    hearts   and    lives 

That     found    new    birth    amid    repentance    there  ? 
How    faith   awoke    the    soul    to    glad    surprise  ? 

How  God  gave  answering  pardon  to  their  praver  ? 
Need    I    to    tell    how    swift    descending    grace 

Awoke    the    desert's    desolate    repose  ? 
How    wilderness    did    bloom,   and    barren    place 

Did  bud  and  blossom  like  the  opening  rose  ? 
Enough  to  suv,  some  harps  in  heaven,  new  strung, 


4° 


THE    McNIEI.S. 


Caught  in  that   hour    the  pean   of  his   praise. 
Enough    to    say    of  those    disciples    young 
Strong-handed    reapers    rose    for    after    days. 


THE     DESOLATE. 

A    room    so    hare,    so    Desolate, 

So  comfortless,    it    seems 
Some    weird    enchantment,    where    the    soul 

Lies    struggling    with    dreams. 
Wildlv    the    winds    of  winter    shook 

The  broken    shutters    there  ; 
Black    shadows    wrapped    the    broken    roof. 

And    hid    the    broken    stair. 

The    mocking    fire-light's    fitful    glow, 

Like    fevered    visions    came, 
Now    sinking    into    shadow    low. 

Now    rising    into    flame  ; 


THE    DESOLATE.  i[ 

But    on    the    .sufferer's    blood-red    cheek, 

And    in    her    burning    eye, 
The  flame    dimmed    not    that    drank    her    life 

And    drained    its    fountain    dry. 
And    ever    in   the    mournful    hush 

Of  wind    and    winter    rain, 
Came    tear-filled    tones    and    broken    pravers, 

And    bitter    moans    of  pain. 
Then   changed    the  winter's    rain    to    sleet  ; 

Then    changed    the    sleet    to    snow, 
And    all    was    black    as    grief  above, 

And    all    was    white    below. 


Beside    the    couch,    with    shrouded    eyes 
And    white    lips    washed    by    tears, 

Sat    Nellie,    by    the    wasted    friend 
Of  girlhood's    happy    years. 

"  I    know,"    the    woman    moaned  ;    "  I    know 
I    cast   my    child    away  ; 


42  THE    McMELS. 

1    know    whose    kind    arms    sheltered    him  ; 
Who    watched    his   childish    play. 


Ah,    well    know    I    he    felt    no    care 

Or    motherhood    hut    thine, 
And    that    his    fair   young    brow    would     shame 

At    any    claim    of   mine  : 
And    vet    through    all    these    wandering    years 

My    lone    life    claimed    its    child, 
With   wilful    hunger   unappeased 

And    nature's    yearnin<r    wild. 


For    in    his    eyes    I    saw    the    glance 
That    won    my    love    of   yore  ; 

And    on    his    brow,    the   brow    I    lost, 
In    sorrow's  nevermore. 

Now,    as    I    gaze    from    shore    to    shore, 
As    lift    the    death-mists    dim, 


THE    DESOLATE.  .  •> 


My    heart    will   claim    this  latest    boon 

One    filial    kiss    from    him." 

The    flush    of  fever    faded   slow  ; 

The    cold    white     death-look    came 
From    out    the    vast    unseen,    and    fell 

Athwart    the    stiffening    frame; 
As,    cold    and    white,    the    risen    light 

Pushed    back    this    night    of  storm  ; 
Yet    colder    grew    the    snow  clad    earth, 

And    still    in    death    the    form. 


A    boy   stood    by    the    couch    of  death, 

And    held    an   icy    hand 
As    one    who    treads    a   hopeless  maze 

lie    may    not   understand  ; 
As   one    whose    welcome-song    hath    changed 

To    grief's    farewell    refrain  ; 


44  THE    McNIELS. 

Whose    careless,    happy-hearted    past 
Will    never    come    n grain. 


A   boy    stood    by    an    open    grave  ; 

But    less    he  wept    for   this 
Than    for    the    living    and    the    lost, 

The    vanished  dream,  of  bliss  : 
Vet  ever  from   his    kindred's    tomb 

There    seemed   to   rise    a    tone — 
To    rise    and    echo    through  his    heart, 

Alone,    alone,    alone. 

Then    back    to    old    home    scenes    he    went 

Of  schoolboy    tasks     and    joy, 
With    manhood's   chill    upon    his    heart 

For    aye — no    more    a   boy  : 
As    one    from    vales    of  summer    green 

By   swift    ascent   should    rise 


THE    DESOLATE. 

4.-) 

And    stand    upon    the    snow-clad    Alps, 
Beneath    the  stormful    skies. 

Vet,    strangely    sweet,    one    bird    of  spring 

Forever    went    and    came  ; 
The    song-bird    love,    kept    trilling    out 

His    playmate    Helen's    name  : 
And    strangely    sweet    the    star    of   hope 

Smiled    down    from    winter    skies  ; 
Forevermore    the    hue    it    wore 

Of   Helen's    summer    eves. 


WAR. 

On    the    wonderful    mount  of   Vision 
The    prophet    of  Israel    stood, 

And    beheld,    through    ages    and    ages, 
Earth    deluged    with    tears    and    blood  ; 


46  THE  MCXIELS. 

But,    beyond    this,    did    Beulah,    the   golden, 
In    the    arms    of  the  Orient    lay — 

The  sun-lit,    the    land    of  the    morning, 
The  jeweled    millennial    day. 

When    the    Prince   of  Peace    hath    descended 

And    ignorance,  want    and   pain 
Led    captive,    shall    grace  the    chariot 

Of  the    Victor's    triumphant    train  ; 
When    the    sword    to    the    useful    ploughshare 

Shall    yield    in    the    mighty    change, 
And    the    lamb    and   the    love-tamed    lion 

Through    forests    of  plenty    shall    range. 

Not    now,    O   toiler,    life- weary — 

The    seer's    vision   was    far  ; 
But    over    the    fields    of  the    future 

Has    arisen   the    Morning    Star  : 
There    is   God    in    the    earth's    upheavings, 
He    shall    turn,    He   shall    overturn  ; 


WAR. 

He    speaks,    and    the    war    tires    kindle  ; 
He    permits,    and    they    blight  .and  burn. 

Somewhere    on    the    green    earth's    bosom 

Is    a    place    for    thy    slumbers    blest, 
Where    the    wicked    shall    eease    from    troubling, 

And   the    wearv    shall    be    at    rest  ; 
When    the    eye    that    is    tired   of  seeing, 

And    the    heart    that    beats    painful    and    slow  ; 
When    the  lips    that    are    wearied   of  asking, 

And    the    feet    that   no    further    can    go 
May    return    to    the    silence    of  nature, 

To    mingle    again    with    the    dust  ; 
May    sleep    till    the    trump    of  Jehovah 

Shall    awaken    the    evil    and  just  ; 
May    sleep,    to    awake    new-created, 

When    the    risen    Messiah    shall     reign, 
And    earth    shall    be    wedded    to    heaven, 

And    love    be    the    links    of   the    chain. 


48  THE    Me  MELS. 

Yes,    you    had    heard    of  battle    rage  ; 

And,    musing    o'er   historic    page, 

Thought    the    vast    thought    of  former    age  : 

Yes,    and    the   July    signal    gun 

Had     told    you    tales    of   freedom,  won 

By    men    \vho    followed    Washington  ; 

And    some    you,    even    knew,    were    slain 

On    Buena    Vista's    bloody    plain.— 

But    was    not    this    another    word 

Your  peace-accustomed    ears    now    heard, 

Though    it    at    first    to    you    did    seem 

As    dimly   distant    as    a    dream  ? 

Yet    in    the    rising    of  the    storm, 

How,    one    by    one,    your    fears    took    form. 

E'en  in    the    quiet    winter    eves, 

E'er    strife    had    turned    the    dreaded    leaves, 

Fast    locked    within    the    book    of  fate, 

And    pointed    out    the    desolate  ; 

A    forecast    shadow    seemed    to    fall 

Around    your   future    so    unknown  ; 


WAR. 

Your    wakened    spirit    felt    its    thrall, 
And    life    took    on    a    mournful    tone. 

One  sat  within  the  firelight  glow 
And  read  the  daily  signs  of  strife  ; 

And  you  kept  turning  to  and  fro 
Your  leayes  of  life. 

He    read    the    heated,   madd'ning  thought 

Of   Southern    despots,    passion-stirred  ; 
You,    as    your    busy    fingers    wrought, 

Prayed   o'er    the    bitter    words. 
The    glow    of  noble    purpose    rose, — 

You  saw    it    in    his    kindling    eyes — 
And,    woman-like,    took    up    the    load 

Of  sacrifice  : — 
Such    sacrifice    as    he    could    know, 

Who    firmly    up    Moriah    trod, 


5O  THE      McNIELS. 

Swept    sight    and    selfishness    away, 

And    left    you  heart    to    heart   with    God. 


'Twas    early    morn — an    April    day  ; 

A    Sabbath    silence    brooding   lay 

Upon    the    field,  upon    the    wood, 

Upon    the    hill  side   where    I    stood. 
A    riverlet,    with    widened    range, 

Rejoicing    in   its  spring-wrought    change, 

Sang    like    a    soul    from    dungeon     free 

Its    song    of  jubilee  ; 

And,   here    and   there,  just    bursting    forth, 

Close    by    the    bank,    close    to    the    earth, 

Sprang    tiny    blossoms    into    birth  ; — 

Men    call    them    snow-drops,  though,  'tis    true, 

They    wear    a    tinge    of  crimson    hue — 

As    might   a    pure    cheek   flush    to    flame, 

And    crimson    at    a    deed  of  shame  ; 


WAR.  5, 


And,    looking   upward    as    in    praver, 

The    earl}-    crocus    everywhere  : 

While    all    the    hill-slope    clothed    with    green, 

In    burnished    sunrise    might    he    seen, 

Like    regal   velvet    mantle's    fold, 

With  dandelion   clasps    of  gold. 


All    night    before,    electric    life 

Flashed    through    the    land    its    tale    of  strife  ; 

All    night    before,  wild    pulses    beat 

Along    the    crowded    city    street 

That  echoed    to    the     tramp    of    feet, 

Men,    white    with    anger,   clasped   their   hands 

And    mutely    stood,    as   one    who    stands 

And    feels    the    gathering    of  woe, 

And    knows    not    whence    to    meet   the    blow  : 

All    that    night    long,   wrestling    with    fears, 

Was    woman's    pillow    drenched    with    tears  ; 


52  THE    MCNIELS. 

Our  country    farmhouse    far  and    lone, 
Had    not    received    its    lightest    tone. 


That    Sabbath   morning,    still   and    sweet; — 
What    did    I    dream  !    of  gathering   feet, 
Where    force    opposing    forces    meet  ? — 
What    did    I    dream  !    of  mad'ning    rage 
That    wrote    with  blood-marks    history's    page, 
And    drenched   our    holy    heritage  ? 
Northward,    I    heard    a    rumbling    tone, 
Like    distant    thunder's   smothered    moan; 
Can    it  be    storm  ?     I    glanced   on    high — 
No    cloud    lay    on   the   smiling    sky  ; — 
Again,    like    distant    lion's    roar, 
Up   from    the    west    it    came    once    more, 
Louder    and   clearer    than    before — 
Then    o'er    the    mountains    far    away, 


53 


Upon    whose    wooded    summits    lav 

The    rosy    sunrise    of  the    day. 

My    heart   stood    still    with   awe    at    first, 

And    then    the    truth    upon   me    hurst  ; 

And    then   I    wailed,    accursed,    accursed 

The    hand    that    kindles    into    life 

The    death-fires    of  this    awful    strife  ! 

Then    bent    I    humbly    to    the    sod  ; 

My   heart-trust    questioned — questioned    God. 

In    vision    saw    I,    far    as    ken 

Could    reach,    long    ranks    of  risen    men, 

With    stern-set    brows,   and    eyes    aglow, 

With    steady    tramping    footfalls   slow, 

March   on    to    meet    the    risen    foe  ; 

And    ever    o'er    their    faces    fell 

A    misty,    vail-like,    fare-thee-well. 

I    said,    as    faded    out    the    view, 

'•  Land    of  my    heart,   my   heart    is   true  ; 


54  THE      MCXIEI.S. 

These  be  thy  sons,  I  love  thee  too  ; 
They  die  for  thee — what  can  I  do  ? 
I  stood  in  spirit  by  a  field— 

A    field    whereon    were    spread 
Long    swaths,    as  by   a   reaper   mown, 

The    dying    and    the    dead  : 
I    seemed   to   see    the    fading    out 

Of  hope   in    many   an    eye  ; — 
I    seemed    to    hear    the   broken    wail, 

The   agonizing    cry. 
I    stood    in    spirit    by    a  tent, 

And    I    heard    the    conflict   roar  ; 
And    fast    as    they   carried    the  dead    away, 

The   bearers   came    back    for   more. 
I    was    treading    the    length    of    a    long,    dim    ward, 

Where,    worn    to    weeping,    lay 
The    bearded    man   and    the    wan-faced    boy, 

Moaning    their    lives    away. 
And    wasted    arms,    and    cold,    white    hands 

Beckoned    the    shadows    through  ; 


WAR. 

And    voices,    hoarse    with    pain,    wailed   out — 

"  Woman,    we  die    for   you  !" 
1    said    within    my    burdened    heart, 

"  I    know    what    I    will   do." 

When    homeward    through    the    fields   I    trod 

The    morning    dew    had    left    the   sod  ; 

And    meadow-land     and    hillside    lay 

In    warm    embrace    of  middle   day, 

I    passed    the    spring    where    cattle    drink, 

And    greening    willows    kissed  the   brink — 

A    mirror   set    and    framed    in   green, 
Within    whose    silent    depths  were  seen 
Soft    April    cloudlets    floating    by 
Above,  beneath,    a   double    sky, — 

Then,    in    unrest,    I    went    and    stood 
Beside    old    timbers    weather-browned, 
On    what    to    us   seemed    holy    ground  ; 


56  THE    MCNIELS. 

A    poison    ivy    winding    clasped 

The    ruins    in    its   serpent  grasp. 

"  Ah,    this  is  fate,"  the  tempter  said, 

"  That  binds  the  living  to  the  dead." 

1    shrank    and    shuddered,  half  dismayed, 

As    if  a  hand  was  on    me    laid ; 

Then    turned    reluctantly    and    slow, 

And    crossed    the    stepping-stones    below. 

From    lifted   sashes    reached    me    there 
The    low    deep    tones    of  fervent  prayer — 
Such    earnest    pleading     as    the    soul 
Holds    'wildering  grief  in  firm    control, 
And    speaks    in    calm    unfaltering    trust 
To   Him    whose   hidden    ways    arc   just. 
I    saw    two    brothers    hand    in    hand 
And    heart    to    heart    together    stand, 
With    locks    in    vivid    noon-bright    glow, — 
One    golden    brown,    one    white    as    snow. 
In    both    I    saw   the    wedded    truth 


57 

Of  thoughtful    prime    and    finished    youth, 
That    dwelt    in    noble    manhood    now, 
Like    halo    round    each    care-lined    brow. 

One    woman    knelt    apart,    alone, 
And,    now    and    then,    a    smothered    moan 
Repressed,    a    chill,    a    sudden    start, 
Bespoke    the    mother    in    her    heart. 

I    saw    one    fair    young    face    repose 
Upon    the    window-sill,    the    rose 
All    faded    from    her    lips,    and    tears 
More    bitter    than    her    youthful    years 
Had    ever    known,    kept    running  o'er 
Her    hand    and    dropping    to    the    floor. 

A    youth    and    maiden,    .side    by    side, 
With    something    new,    a   dash    of  pride, 
A    wild,    adventurous    fervor    took 


5  THE    Me  NIELS. 

Weird    form    in    willfulness    of  look. 

Hugh    seemed    to    fret,    as    I    have    seen 

A    high-bred    horse    for    action    keen, 

As    thoughts    like    these,  his    pulses    stirred — 

This    is    a    day    for    deeds,     not    words. 

I    saw    their    eyes    meet,    and    a    smile 

Struggle    with    awe    in    both    awhile  : 

O    children,    thought    I,    never    were 

Such    deeds    as    actions    born    of  prayer. 

One,    unimpassioned,    stood  ;    the    task 

Of  questioning    all    overpast  ; 

Upon    the    other    was    the    glow 

Of  indecisive    feeling's    flow  : 

I,    to    myself  said,    he    will    go. 

He    glanced    at    Helen,    slow    and    true 

Rose    tears    into    his    eyes    of  blue. 

Barred    by    strong    will,    these    drops    of   pain 

Fell    back    into    their    depths    again. 


WAR. 

I    said,    full    well,    these    signs    I    know, 
Down    to    the    front    this    man    will    go. 

The    clay    drew    slowly    to    its    close, 

Another    work-day    sun    arose. 

Few    were    the    words    we    said, 

Too    deeply    surged    the    tide    of  thought, 

& 

The    near    unknown,    with    peril    fraught, 
On    every    moment    meaning    wrought  : 

*"*  ?•> 

We    walked    as    they    who    tread 
With    hated    breath   all    silently 
Along    the    brink    of  destiny. 
A    pallor,    born    of  pain,    made    white 
The    dear    house-mother's    cheek, 
Men    looked    into    each    other's    eyes 
The    words    they    would    not    speak. 
A    little    waiting    and    suspense 
Through    towns    and    scattered    farms, 
Then    came    the    marshaling    of  men, 


60  THE    \fc\IELS. 

The    clarion    call,    "To    arms  !" 
Then    over    all    the    sanctified 
Birth-pangs    of  sorrow    roll, 
And    love    unselfish,    brought    to    birth 
The    hero    in    each    soul. 

Beside    the    turnpike,   just    half-way 
Between    the    farm    and    village,    lay, 
By    laurel-bordered    moss    o'ergrown, 
Smooth    as    a    floor,    the    half-way    stone. 
'Twas   Wednesday    afternoon,    I    think, 
The    sun   just    tipped     upon    the    brink 
Of  Alden's   forest,    all    agleam 
And    lined    with    gold    the    thread-like    stream, 
That    ringed    the    rock    with    gentle    flow, 
And    crossed    the    pasture-land    below. 

Half   hidden    bv    the    hazel    bough, 
Half  hidden    by    the    maple    wood, 


WAR. 

\Vith    hand    hard    pressed    upon    his    brow, 

The    farmer    stood — 

He    saw    no    sight,    he    heard    no    sound, 

Oblivious    to    all    around 

All    light    on    inner    vision    cast, 
As    one    whose    temple    is     the    past, 
Who    \vaiteth    by    the    altar,    pale, 
To    sacrifice    within    the    vail, 
Where    echo    of  an    outer    word 
Its    solitude    hath    never    stirred, 
And    never    sacred    seal    or    book 
Hath    opened    to    another's    look. 

A    foot-fall,    and    another    stands 
Beside    him,    and    a    brother's     hands 
Upon    his    shoulder    fell. 
"  I    sought    you,  James,    because    to-day 
Somewhat    I    have    to    you    to    say, 
A    dream    to    you    to   tell : 


62  THE    MCNIELS. 

Our    Highland    home    I   saw    last    night, 

Just    as    it    faded    from    my    sight, 

Folded    in    mountain    mist. 

Our    own    dear    mother,    true   and    good, 

As    in    her    cottage   door    she    stood 

When    she    her   lads    had    kissed  ; 

But,    O!    her    locks    like    winter   grown, 

And    tear-light   in    her   dear    eyes    shone, 

Her    broken    voice    was  mournful    now 

As    wind-sigh    in    the    forest    hough. 

I    thought    our    mother,    weeping,    said : 

'  The    battle-plain    is    heaped    with    dead — 

O,    let    not  Jamie    go! 

The    toll    of  death    is    in    mine    ear, 

I    see    the    crowded    trenches    near  ; 

The    long    lines    bend    and    break    and   flee, 

Like    dead    leaves    on    the    wind-swept    lea  ; 

I    see    the    white    lips    of  the    slain 

Washed    by    the    fall    of  midnight    rain — 

O,    let    not   Jamie    go!'" 


63 

The    younger    brother    raised    his    head: 

"  I,    too,    have    dreamed    a    dream,"    he    said, 

With    earnest,    mournful    tone; 

"  Ne'er    since    my    love    went    down    between 

Yon    banks,    have    I    her    bright    face    seen, 

Even    in    dreams,    till    now  ; 

Yet,    surely,    with    her    own    fair    brow, 

By    yonder    hazel    wood, 

All    blithe    and    bonnv    as    of    old, 

And    folded    in    the    star-flag's    fold, 

Mv   bride    before    me    stood — 

Stood    silent — -yet    I    heard    mv    name 

Wind    through    a    funeral     refrain ; 

And    this    I    heard,    '  We'll    meet    again, 

Beloved,    upon    the    battle-plain  !' 

"  Now,    brother,    lay    I    on    thy    heart 
My    heart's    last    hope    and    care — 
My    Helen,    with    our   mother's    look, 


64  THE    MCNIELS. 

Her    sunny    eyes    and    hair; 

She    never    knew    another    home, 

And    may    it    never  be, 

Within    my    faithful    brother's    ward 

She    feel    the    need    of  me." 

Two   lads,  side  by  side,  in  the  wide   field  wrought? 

One  silent,  and  seemingly  wrapped  in  thought, 

The  other,  his    restlessness  scarcely  restrained, 

Half  in    anger   and  half  ashamed: 

"Ho,   beauties!"    laughed    he,    and    released 

His    oxen    from    the    plow, 

"Part    you    and    I,    my    pets,    in    peace; 

Another  hand   must  guide  you  now, 

Other  than  I    shall  reap  this    field, 

Must    place    upon  your  necks    the  yoke, 

For,  till  the  cursed  traitors  yield, 

I'll    never    take  another    stroke. 

Come,    Hugh,  'tis    time    for  you    and    I 

To    bid    this    quiet    farm    good-bye!" 


WAR.  6- 

u  O,    yes,"    was    answered,  "as    you    say, 

My  heart    has    said  good-bye  all   day ; 

But:,  if    I    go,    then    you    must    stay." 

"I    stay!     well,    that    is    good!      Why,    Hugh, 

Should   not   I   right  as  well    as   you  ?" 

u  You   are   the    younger,    Bruce,    you    know; 

One    is    enough    of  us  to    go, 

But    it    the    Wai"   should    be    prolonged, 
And    other    calls    should    come, 

If  I    should   tall—"     Said    Bruce,    "Enough! 
Think    you   I'll    lag    at    home  ? 
I'll    tell  you   how   to  settle  this  : 

Stand   here   upon   the   green, 

Which   is    the    better    of   the    two 

Is    yery    quickly    seen  ; — 

I'\e    almost    felt,    since   Sumter    fell, 

As    I    could    lift    a    ton, — 

The    one    shall    haye    the    earliest    chance 

Who   brings    the   other    down." 


66  THE      MCNIELS. 

With    quiet    smile   upon   his  face, 

Hugh    spread   his  arms    for  the  embrace. 

He    was    a    young  athlete    in    strength ; 

Before    he   knew  it,    all    his    length 

Bruce    lav   upon   the    ground, 

Then,    rising,   hurst    in    angry   tears, 

And,   without    glancing   round, 

Ran    off,  and    hours  and  hours    that    day 

The    boy    could    not    be    found. 


Through     the     length     and     breadth     of    the    Nortli 

[land,    then 

Was    seen    the    uprising    of  earnest   men. 
Not    alone    from    the    hive-like    city  streets, 
Where    life    like    a    throbbing    artery    beats, 
From    the    factory's    din,    and    the    workshop's   roar. 
Did    the    throng    of  our    patriot    soldiery   pour  ;- — 
No, — he    with    the    sun-brown    upon    his    brow, 
Left    in    the    furrow    that    spring     his    plow, 


WAR.  67 

And    gave,    in   the-    hour    of  its    first  alarm, 
His    life    as    a    shield    from    the     nation's     harm. 
Then    names    were    written     that    rent    aside 
The    lover's    pledge    to     his    promised    bride  ; 
Then    names    w^-re    written    that    did    destroy 
The    mother's    right    in    her    first-born    boy  ; — 
Names    were    written    and    prayers    were    prayed, 
That    common    folks    into    heroes    made. 


I    remember    that    twilight,   like     fate    folded    down. 
The  day    when   equipped   for  a   neighboring  town, 
Our     boys   stood    readv   to    go. 
A    foreboding  faintness    crept    into    inv    heart, 
As    if   life    from    our    life    was    rending    apart, 
But    we   would    not    answer   them,    No  ! 

Thev    went    from     our     midst,    and    we    knew    that 

[when 

Thev    returned   it   would    be    as    enlisted    men  : 


68  TMK       MCNIHI.S. 

So    we    sat    and    talked    of  the    direful    need, 
And    each    to    herself  and    the    others    agreed 
To   repress  all    weeping   when    our  soldiers  start 
And   send   them  away   with  a    cheerful    heart. 


Twelve  short    hours  !      To-morrow   night 

Must    they   stand   in    the    gleaming    Capitol's  light — 

Stand    as  a    guard    in    the    cause    of   right. 

Only    t \yel\e    hours    for    the    sad    good-bye. 

With    its   rush  of  thought,  and   its    quick    reply, 

Crowding    upon    the    memory: — 

Twelve   night    hours,  hut    no  eye  closed, 

Hours    for   rest   but    no    head    reposed. 

Then    petitions    ascended  to    tin-    God   of  Heaven, 

Then    garments    were    folded    and     keepsakes   giyen, 

For   we    knew    when   the   starlight   gaye   place   to  the 

[dawn, 

The   first   volunteers   from  our  midst  would  be  gone. 


WAR. 


And    then    they    u-erc    gone,    and    \ve    must   remain, 
Treading   the    tread-mill   of  duty   the   same. 

I     remember     those    weeks,    with     their     death-peril 

[fraught, 

When    the    'wildered     brain    reeled    with    intenseness 

[of  thought. 

When   the  earliest  blood-sprinkle,  falling  before 

The    storm,     stained    thy    pavement.    O.    mad    Balti- 

[more  ! 

I  low    up   from   the   Southland   came  the   shrill   battle 

[cry, 
How    down    from   the   North    rang  defiant   reply, 

How    the     hearts   of    both     rivals    with    love-longing 

[burned. 

As  their  eyes  on   the   Capitol-city   were  turned  :  — 
White  as  death.    I   remember,  the  spring  lilies  came: 
I    remember  the  tulips,   with   blood-hues  aflame; 
The    long,  lonesome    twilight;  the  lonesomer  morn; 
The  pitying  whispers  that  swept  through  the  corn: 
Remember  the  soul-wearing  days  of  suspense, 
Wailing    for    tidings;  —  -remember,    at   length, 


7«  TIIR    McXIELS. 

When     the     worn     missive     came     from     the     warm 

[soldier's    heart, 

How    over    and    over    each   read  them   apart. 

I    remember    our  sickness    of  soul    at    the    tramp 

Of  the   hoys   who  brought  back  their  dead  comrade 

[from  camp; 

How    we    covered     his    casket    with    blossoms    and 

[tears ; 

How    we    wept    as    one     weeps     whe-n     the    promise 

[of  years 

Hath    departed: — remember     the    grief- wailing     sent 

O'er    the    brow    of    the    bov    who    had    died    in    his 

[tent; 

Remember    the    brother,    with    white,    tearless    face, 
\Vho    said,    a  I    am    going     to    light    in    his    place  I1' 

All   thi<,     and    much    more,     o'er    the     shore-sand    is 

[cast, 

Like   the    wrecks    of   a    storm,    by     the     tide    of   the 

[past. 


It   was    earlv    midsummer.      From    morning   a   cloud 

Hung      awav     to     the     South,    like     the    folds     of    a 

[shroud, 


7' 
Or  sulphur-smoke    rising    as   biack  ;ls  thc  tomh__ 

The      north-sky      all     sunshine,      the     southern     all 

[gloom,—; 
We  saw    the  taint  flashing,  as  lightning  at  play, 

We  heard    the    low    growl,  as  a  lion  at  bay  : 

We    said,    "A    storm    riscth,"— ah!    little    we    knew 

The  .storm    sweeping  over    our    army    of  blue. 

We    were    watching    and    waiting;    our    Bruce    was 

[away 

At    the     nearest     town,     seeking     the    news    of  the 

[day;- 
The    hours    dragged    slowly,  ten,  eleven,     and    one, 

The    thought  of  retiring  was  mentioned  by  none. 
We    knew    the    boy    tarried    for     tidings — we    knew 

There    was    work    at    the  front,  and   we  shuddering 

[drew 

Our    breath,    when    his    footstep    was    heard    in    the 

[hall. 

He    entered,  his  eyes  red   with    weeping: — u  Tis  all 
Lost!     we    are  driven    and     scattered    and    slain. 
A    cowardly    rabble    is    all    that   remain." 


J2  THE    MCXIELS. 

All  lost!  was    the    burst    of  our    bitter    surprise — 
All    lost!    was    the    burden    of  grief-choked    replies. 


>.'•  Let    us    pray,"    said    the    father;     and    then    in    hi.s 

[prayer, 

"  God   save  our  rent   nation — God    help  our  despair. 
God    stay    the    black   tide  of   destruction — God   keep 
Our    Capitol    safe    from     its    desolate    sweep! 
Arise,    O,    Most    Holv!   come  swift  to  our  aid! 
O,    Christ,    let    this  fearful   rebellion  be  stayed." 
Then    the    after-pang,    with    its    sickening    pain, 
Where    dread  sang    ever    her    sad    refrain, 

Of    the     trampled     dying     and     the    blood-drenched 

[plain, 

Of  the    hopeless    wounded    in    the     mad    retreat, 
And    the    frantic    hurrying    rush    of   feet. 
A    whole  week    passes,     we    cannot     hear; 
Face    to  face   with    harrowing  fear— 
Then    came    the    death-list;  our    boys    were    in 
The    roll    of  our    wounded     and    missing-    kin  — 


73 

Heading   the    death-list    was  James    McXiel, 
Wounded    and    left    on    the    conquered    field  :— 
Leading  the    charge,    like    a    soul-brave    man, 
He    fell    ere    the    shameful    retreat     began. 
And    was    that    all  ?     O,    how    much    to    guess 
In    the    troubled    dream    of  the    fatherless. 


I    had    heard    the     old    clock    in     the    kitchen    strike 

[four, — 

I      had    counted     its    strokes,     for     the     night     hours 

[seemed  long, — 

I    saw    from    mv    window    the     day-star    hang    o'er, 
The    dimmest,    the    faintest     gray    signal     of     dawn. 

Like    an     angel's    chant,     fell    on    my    half-dreaming 

[ear, 

Or    a    rising     Tc  D<'Ut»,    the     grove-warblers'    song; 
Now    I    lav,    with   a  dim,    undefined    sense    of  pain 

Like    a    woe    on    the    heart,    like     a    weight    on    the 

[brain  : 

I     heard    a    faint   footfall,    a  half-smothered  cry; 


74  THE  MCNIELS. 

A    warm    rain  of   tears  on   mv    neck   and   arms  fell, 
And,    sobbing    as    deeply    as    if  she    would  die; 
She    lay    on    my    bosom,    our    brave-hearted    Belle  : 
"O,   Rachel!"  she  cried,    "I    so   long    for  the  duv— 
(),    Rachel! — our  Bruce — he    is    now    far    away! 
Was    it    foolish    and    wrong,  that   I    let  him  bind 
Mv    lips    to    silence — will    the  blame  be  mine 
If    he    never    returns? — he   could   not    endure 
The    tears    of   parting;  and    fixed    and    sure 
He    had    given    his    name:   and,    O,    far    away 
Will    mv    brother    be    on    the    coming    dav!" 
She  shivered  with  grief; — "O,  the  long,  long  night; 
Will    it    never,    O,    never    again    be    light  ?"- 
But  she  slumbered   at   last,   with   long    grieving  sigh 
Of  an    infant    so    \vearv    no    more    it    can    weep  : 
Thanks,    thanks,    to    the  balm-laden    angel   ot  sleep! 

So    another    was    gone,  and    closer    we  drew; 
And    smaller    and    smaller,  our    home-circle    grew. 


WAR.  y- 

Then     came    the     harvest:    that    year    in    the    grain, 
Unheeding    the    sunshine,    unheeding    the    rain, 
We    girls    helped     to    gather    the    bountiful    yield, 

And    bring    forth    the    corn,    golden-eared,  from   the 

[field. 


A    missive    from    Bruce — alas!  how    delayed— 
A    missive    of   sorrow:   he    earnestly    prayed 

Help     for     Hugh,     worn     and     wounded,     and     day 

[after  day 

In    the    ward     of  the    hospital    wasting    away; 
And    then    in    a    postscript    from    the    suffering    one. 
In    lines    scarcely    legible — Rachel    must    come. 


As    one    upon    his    journey    stayed — 
Longing    to    go   and    yet    delayed, — 
All    that    long    summer    through; 
This    single    purpose    kept     in    sight. 


76  TUP:  MCXIELS. 

Deeming    that    sometime    in    the    night 
Would    come    a    call    to    do. 
Now,    as    the    warrior-heart  in    all 
Its    fibre  feels    the    bugle-call, 
A    living    impulse    thrilled    me    through, 
As    if  a    voice    said,    "Rise    and    do!" 
And    I    at    roll-call    made    replv, 
On    eve    of    battle,    "Here    am    I!" 
Yet    one    heart-broken     maid    replied: 
"  Dear   Rachel,    I    shall    never    'bide 
At    home,    for,    surelv,    by    his    side 
My    right    it    is    to    stand; — 
Entreat    me    not,    1     would    not    stay 
If  angel-hands    should    liar    the    wav, 
Or    human    voice    <  ommand  I1 


u  Can    this    be    a    dream?"    said     I    to    my    heart; 
As    the    laboring    cars,    with    their    living    freight, 
Onward,    onward    into    the    dark, 


WAR.  -H 

Passed    over    the    hounds    of   mv    native    State- 

•'  Can    this    he    a    dream — this   parting    to-night, 
This    rending    of    home-life    for    sacrifice?" 
Then    I   turned   to  the    girl,  with  her  hand  in   mine 
And    looked    for    an    answer    into    her    eves, — 
Looked    for    an    answer:    such    a    world    of   woe 
Up    through    those    patient     orbs    gleamed    through 
That    I     whispered,    "Helen,    (),    Helen,    weep!" 
And    the    poor    white    face    to    my  shoulder    drew. 


"Are    von    going    down     to    the    front,     my    child?" 
The    tones    were    rough,    hut     the    eyes    were    kind: 
•'  You    hear    the    look    of  a    girl    I    knew, 
In    the    dear    old    village    I    left    behind,"- 
'  Twas    the    voice    of  an    officer    sitting    near, 
I     glanced    in    his    face,  it    was    honest    and    true; 
An    armless    sleeve    lay    across    his    breast, 
And    a    Captain's    badge    on    his    army     blue. 


78  THE    M  c:\IEI-S. 

"Yes,    down    for    a   brother  who  is  nigh  to  death — 

At    Manassas    wounded  !"     I    quietly    said; 

He    sighed,    "There  my    good  sword-arm     was    left, 

But    many    a    better    man    lay     dead." 

Then    Helen    started,    as    from    a    dream : 

"Perhaps,    mv    father    you    may    have    known — 

Captain    McNiel,    of  the    Seventeenth; — 

That    he    fell,    was    all    that    was     ever    shown." 


"  Are     vou    his     daughter  ?       Why,     I      knew     him 

[well; 

He  stood  at  mv  right  in  the  same  brigade; 
He  was  bravelv  cheering  his  comrades  on, 
When  the  heaviest  charge  of  the  day  was  made. — 

'Twas    a    great,     grand    sight;     ere    the     word     was 

[given, 

As   I    glanced    mine    eyes    along    the    line; 
There   we're   main'   a   look    uplift  to   heaven, 
And    main     a    life-pulse    throbbed,    like    mine. 
I    saw    him    again,    in    the    wild    retreat, — 


Under    a    shot-riven    tree    he    lav, 

But    the    smile    on    his    lips    was    as    calmly    sweet 

As    one   who    a    lover    has    chanced    to    meet, 

And     I    knew  he    had    peacefully    passed    away. 

I     was    bleeding    and   taint,   we   were   sorely    pressed; 

Most    of   the    wounded    were    left    to    die: — 

O,    many    a    beautiful    life    went    out 

Under    that    sulphurous,    cloud-wrapped     skv. 

You    never,    itci'cr    will     understand, 

Though    L    sit    and    talk    till    mv    head    were    <jra\, 

One    half   of  the    woe    of   this    war -cursed    land; 

And     I     ask    of  the    Lord,    that    vou    never    niav. 

I     shall     <_n>    to   the    front,    though    mv    work    is  done 

In    the    ranks;      of   mv    <;-ood    ri^ht    arm    bereft, 

I    shall    answer    mv     roll    bv    the    couch    of    pain, 

I    shall     war    with    a    different    enemy — death." 

Swiftly    over    the     war -bound    we    sped; 
Wasted    vinevards    and    unrept    fields, 


So  THE     MCNIKI.S. 

Homes    deserted,    and     hearth  -  tires    dead — 
The    ghastly    harvest     rebellion    yields. 
Sometimes,    by    the    wayside,    a    Union    flag 
Hung    from    a    farmhouse,    faded    and    dim; 
Sometimes,    in    the    door -way,    a    scowling    face 
Gave    index   of   traitorous    heart    within; — 
And    ever,    the    gleam    of  the    camp-fire    light. 
And    ever    the    sentinel,    mute    and   grim. 


THE     HOSPITAL. 

"Here,    matron!"    spoken    in    hurried    tones, 

As    we    stood    in    the    hospital   hall; 

"  Here    are    the    friends    of    No.    nineteen." 

And    that    was    all : 

The    surgeon,    a    man    with    cheery    face, 

A    prompt    but    a    quiet    tread, 

Went    back    to    his    office;    in     a    moment    more, 

The    matron    stood    by    us    instead. 


THE    HOSPITAL.  Si 

One    of  those    women    who    always    drift, 

By    a    natural    instinct,    where 
Are    wanted    the    tones    of    a    softer     voice, 

The    touch    of  a    tenderer    care; — 
One    of  those    women    who  never    flinch, 

Whatever    the    heart    may    feel; 
Who    into    the    warp    of  love    can    weave 

A    woof  of  the    sternest    steel. 

u  Come    into    my    room    a    moment,    dear, 

'Till    the    nurse    of  his    ward    I    call.1' 
I    was    glad,    for    Helen    was    cold    and  white; 

And    she    trembled    as    if  she    would    fall. 
She    entered    the   room    with    the    soldier  -  nurse: 

"  It    is    well    you   are    come,"    he    said, 
"  I    was    sadly     afraid,    with    the     best    of  our    care. 

Your    friend    would    be    dead;" 
For    more    than    a    week    he    has     called  and  called. 

In    bewildered,    delirious    tone; 


S3  THE    McXIELS. 

For    Helen," — and    a  »smile    that  was    half  a  tear, 

In    the    eyes    of   the    soldier    shone. 
u  If  Helen    has    come,    I    think    he    will    rest; 

But   if,"    he    said,    with    a    sigh, 
"  We    cannot    ward    off   this    homesickness, 

I'm    afraid    he    will    die." 

What    was    one    soldier  ? — a    hundred    lay 

Tossing    with    feverish    dreams   of  home, 
All    through    the    long    night    wishing    for    day, 

Pleading    and    praying    for    some    one    to    come; 
Come    ere    the    life  -  chord    asunder   be    riven, 

Come    ere    the    golden   bowl    broken    shall    be, 
Come    that    the    kiss    of  farewell    may    be    given, 

Ere    the    tried    soul    launch   out   on    eternity's  sea. 

What,  though  he  lav  with  his  hand  in  her  hand? 
What,  though  he  pillowed  his  head  on  her  breast; 
Though  the  blissful  hush  of  a  great  deep  calm 


THE    HOSPITAL.  83 

To    the    slumber    of  infancy    lulled    him    to    rest  ? 

Though    he    wakened    with     new    life    coursing    his 

[veins ; 

And    said,    UI    shall    live,"    in    blissful    surprise; 
The    man    on    his    right    and    the    man    on    his    left 
Hid    under    their   blankets    their    tear-dimmed    eyes. 


What    was    one    soldier  ?     A    hundred    lay 

Suffering    to    death    within    my    call  ; 

But    Helen    bent    over    him    day    by    day: — 

He    was    her    all. 

Love    is    selfish,    and    cares    for    one  ; 

Separates    one    from    among    the    crowd  ; 

Reareth    its    altar    for    sacrifice  ; 

Forever    over    that    altar   is    bowed  : 

Nor    doth    it    matter    if    thousands    fail, 

If   homeward    the    light    of  my    life    shall    come  ; 

Nor    if    a  'thousand    hearts    shall    starve. 

If  plenty    abide    in    my    home. 


S-f  THE   MCXIEI.S. 

There    is   something    better    than  self-bound    love, 

Forever    revolving    around    its    sun; 

Gathering    honey    and    hoarding    it    up, 

And    pouring    it    into    the    lips    of   one  ; 

Better    dilute    it    a    little,    and    spread, 

S:>    that    it    cover    a    broader    space; 

And    give    to    the    famished,    the    half   unfed, 

A    morsel — a    taste. 

O,    the    heart    of  a    man    is  a    selfish    thing, 

And    the    love    of  a    woman    is    even    more  ; 
Like    the    long    armed    ivv,    'will    cling     rind    cling, 

Till    it    crushes    the    oak    that    it    clambers    o'er. — 
Thank    God    that  the  death   of  a  Christ  could    rend 

The    veil    of  the    Holv    and    Most    Holv    place  ! 
Thank    God    the    heart    of   a    Christ    can    clasp 

The    whole    wide    world    In    a    love    embrace  ! 

May     I     call     you     mother  ?        And    a    queer    smile 

[spread, 

Half   fun,    half  sorrowful   joy. 


THE    HOSPITAL.  o- 

°3 

k-  Only    fourteen    was    his    age,"    he    said  ;— 

Just    an    overgrown    boy. 
I     sat    by    his    sick    couch    half   of  the    night  ; 

All    efforts    for    rest    were    vain  ; 
His    cheeks    were    thin,    and    his    lips    were    white 

And    he    moaned    like    a    child    in    pain. 
"May   I   call  you  mother?"    ([   had   held   his    hands 

And    soothed    him    with    all    of   mv    art  ; 
I    suppose    it    reminded    the    suffering  boy 

Of   his    mother's    hand    and    heart:) 
"  Yes,    call    me    mother  ;    but    tell    me    first 

Of  your    own    dear    mother   at    home  : — 
Whv,    Willie,    you're    fit    for    nothing    but    school; 

What    could    have    possessed    you    to    roam  ?" 
*'  O,    a    great    war    meeting    was     held    that    night. 

And    speeches    were    made    in    our    town  : 
Thev    said    the    Southerners    fired    our    forts, 

And    our    star-spangled    banner    hauled    down. 
You    know    the    story    of  launching    the    ship  ; — 

I    thought    I    could    push    a    pound." 


86 


THE    McNIELS. 


"  I    believe   you  have  pushed  a  good  many  pounds; 

But    had    you    no    brothers    to    go  ? 
And  where  was  your  father  ?     Did  he  not  refuse?" 

He    sorrowfully    answered,    "no  ; 
I    have    only    my    mother  —  the    rest    are    all    dead  — 

And    she  —  oh,    I'd    rather    not   say;" 
And    the    great    tears    rose    to    the    poor    lad's  eyes 

And    rolled    from    his   white    check    away. 
Yes,    even   now,    when    the   overflow 

Of  the    past    with    its    sorrow    anil   joy 
Returns    in    the    swelling    of  memory's    flood, 

I    wonder,    "  O,    where    is    my    boy  !" 


"  Will    you    write    me    a     letter  ?"    said    a    wounded 

[man, 

With    his    great    black    eyes    on    me  ; 
"  You    see,    they    have    ruined     my    writing    hand  ; 
'Twas    a    sorrowful   joke    to    me  ; 
For   letters,   you    know,    are    a    soldier's    life, 


THE    HOSPITAL.  $7 

And   she   writes  like  a  parson,  my  excellent  wife. 

"  I    should    like    to    show    you    our  nice  little  home; 

Flowers,    we've    a    garden    full  : 

Wife,    she    has    a    knack    of  crowding    the    yard 

With    everything    beautiful. 

That    rose,  you    know,  with    the  dew  on  its  leaves, 

The    fragrance    was    just    the    same 

A^    the    vine    she    trained    over    our    portico  : — 

Such    a    rush    of   home    memories    came, 

That    I    closed    mv    eves,  and    vou    thought   I  slept, 

But    I    lived    it    all    over    again." 

"  Children — whv,    yes,    we    have   three,    my    hoy, 

And    Lillv,    and    hahy    Grace  ; 
And    a   nobler    hoy  you   never    will    find 

Than    I    left    at    the    dear    old    place  ; 
And    Lilly    is    just    a    little    woman, 

And    the    babe    has    the    sweetest    face. 

"  But,    for    the    children    I'd    send   for    her— 


88  THE      McNIELS. 

She's    the    steadiest    nerves    and    eye — 
I   was  half  killed  once,  but    she    brought   me   round, 

Though    the    doctors    all    said    I    would    die. — 
I    tell    you    the    boys    would  be  sure    of   one    friend, 

If   iny   wife    was    here    to    stand    by." 

So    I    wrote   a    letter    to    that    excellent    wife. 
Just    as    he    dictated,    word    for    word, 
A    real    love    letter — how    I    honored    the    man — 
lie    remained    through    the    war  ;     and    I    heard 
That    he    met    all    his    darlings    face    to    face — 
The    boy,    and    Lillv,    and    baby    Grace. 

"Well,   Rachel,"  said    Helen    and    Hugh  one  day, 
"  You    seem   to    have    found    your    sphere  ; 

The    furlough    has    come,    shall    we    go    away 
And    leave    you    here  ?" 

In    the    first    sweet  balm-days    of   early    spring, 
With    health-light    and    hope    in    his    eye  ; 


THE    HOSPITAL.  89 

And    the    rest    of  a    heart    giving    love    for  love, 

They    bade    me    good-bye. 
And    I    knew,    when    over    the    threshold    of    home 

The    mornings    of  April    should    play, 
The  friends  ot  the  maiden  would  garland  her  brow, 

And    give    her    away. 
I    also    knew,    that    the    morn    of  love 

Would    bring    with    it    parting    pain; 
When    the    soldier    lover    must    gird    his    sword, 

And    off  to    the    war    again. 
Those    days    of   struggle,  when    death    and    life 

Stood    bearing    the    palm    between  ; 
Those    days    of  trial  ;     of  strife    on    strife, 

Like    a    wierd    panoramic    scene — 
Passing,    passing,    with    their    couches    white, 

And    their    long,    hushed    wards    of  pain; 
Where    eves   were    dimming    into    the    night, 

Where    life-visions    wax    and    wain. 

Praying    the   Father    to   silence   doubt  ; 
Gazing    with    strengthened    sight 


90  THE  MCXIELS. 

Into    the    opening    fields    of  bliss 

And     heavenly    light  ; 
Wiping    the    damp    off  the    cold,    white    brow, 

For     the     march    is    ended,    and   the    day's    work 

[done  ; 

Laying     the    knapsack    and    canteen    by, 

At    the    set    of  sun  ; 
Folding    the    pictures    and    keepsakes    up, 

And   sending    them    home. 


Backward    and    forward    the    war-tide    beat, 

Like    a    wave    on    the    wild    seashore  : 
Names    unnoticed    before,    at     length, 

A    terrible    meaning    bore. — 
Shiloh,    Bethel,    and    Donelson, 

Vicksburg    and    Malvern    Hill, 
Each    with    their    quota    of   wounded    men 

The    vacated    cots    to    fill. 
I    look    in    my    diary,  November  tenth, 

Eighteen    sixty-two, — 


THE    HOSPITAL.  01 

The    first    enlisted    are  veterans    now, 

But    the    ranks    are    filling    anew. 
The    Northmen    arise    at    the    President's    call, 
Determined    to    conquer    or    willing    to    fall  : 
A    battle    is    fought    in    a    western    State, 
The    enemy    driven    hack  ; 
But    the    sick,    disabled    and    dying    men 
Are    scattered    along    the    track. 

Great    bodies    of    soldiers    pass    through    the    town, 
Leaving    their    hundreds    behind  ; 
The    halls,    the    hotels,    the    churches    are    full  ; — 
Wherever    the    eye    can    find 
A    resting-place,    any    and    everywhere, 
The    convalescent    and    the    dying    are. 

Dim    as    the    light    through    its    windows,  stained, 
I    see    in    the    terrible    past 

A    great,    old    church — it    is    crowded    so    full; 
The  disabled    are    dying    so    fast. 


f)2  THE      MCNIELS. 

So    much    to    be    done;    and,    O    God  !   so    small 

The    wherewith    for    any    to    do; 

With    that    strange    assemblage    of  patient     eyes 

Uplooking    from    every    pew. 

They    lie    on    the    benches,    under    the    trees  ; 

They    rise    and    wander    about — 

Into    the    garden    and    through    the    gates — 

And    in    and     out ; 

They     sit     on     the    graves    in    the    old    churchyard 

They    crouch    by    the    camp-fire    light, 

In    their    blankets    folded,    and    the  star-gleams     fal 

Over    their    faces    white. 

Up    from    the    basement     a    racking    cough 

Comes,    stifled    by    moans    of  pain, 

Startles    the    sleeper    at     the    midnight     hour, 

Soundeth    again     and    again : 

Heads    that    at    home    would   be    pillowed  upon 

The    wife    or    the    mother's    breast, 

Roll    on    their    knapsacks  from    side    to    side, 

Seeking    in    vain    for   rest; 


THE    HOSPITAL.  03 

Men    so    prized    that    their    native     town 
Were    in    mourning    if  they    should    die, 
Close    their    pale    lip^    and    go    up    to   God 
Without    a    cry. 

Great    pine-trees  guarding    the    dead    men's  rest, 
Shivered    and    moaned    as    the    wind    caressed, 
And    the    golden    sunshine    of   winter    crowned 
The    old    church    spire    and    the    hills    around; 
Then,    into    an    ocean    of    molten    gold, 
The    dav-god    vanished,    and,  fold  on  fold, 
Gathered    the    curtains    of  twilight    down, 
Hushing    to    quiet    that    quaint    old    town. 

Not    there    the    monument    high,  that   told 

The    depth    of  the    rich    man's   hoard    of  gold; 

Not    there    the    lower    lots    that    yield 

A    pauper's    grave    in    the    potter's    field : 

It    seemed,    by    the    long    lines    of  level    mound, 


94  THE    MCXIELS. 

As    if  an    army    had    bivouac     round, 
Weary    of   marching,    at     evening  -  fall, 
Waiting    the    morning    reveille    to    call. 

Bowed,    till    his    head,    with    its  iron  -  gray, 
Prone    on     the    grave    of    a    soldier    lav — 
Bowed,    till    his    rough    coat    and    hardened    hand 
Was    sprinkled    over    with    yellow    sand — 
He    knelt,    and    the    deep    sobs    upward    pressed, 
Forcing    their    way    from    the    strong    man's   breast, 
He    knelt,    and    the    burning    tears — ah,  well! 
Such    tears    as    only    a    man    weeps,    fell. 

At     the     head    of    the     grave     was     a     small     cross 

[placed, 

And    carefully    carved    these   four    words    traced, 
Words    of   an    infinite    meaning    to    be 
The    sum    of   a    life    hope:   "He    died    for  me." 
"Your    son,    I    presume?"     He    raised    his    head, 
Then    rose    and     stood    by    my    side     and    said: 


THE    HOSPITAL. 


95 


UI    will    tell    you    stranger: — in    a    Northern    State, 

When    the    cause    looked     dark    and    the    need    was 

[great, 

With  the    clutch    of   the   cursed    rebel    foe 

At    the    nation's    throat,    how   I  longed  to    go; 

But    the    frightened    pleading,     the     dumb    surprise, 

That    arose    in    my    poor    wife's    upturned    eyes! 

I    was    verv   poor,  but  with     honest    hand 

Had    I    wrung    support    from     my    rockv  land; 

Nothing  in    plentv    had    to   me  been   given 

But     the     poor      man's     blessing— for      that     thank 

[Heaven! 

There    were    boys    with  black  eyes,    and  girls  with 

[blue, 

There      were     youths     and     maidens    just     peering 

[through 

The    bars    that    open    from    childhood's     lane 
Into    the    workday    fields    of   grain, 
There   were  toddling  darlings   just   up    to  my   knee, 
And    the  four    months'    baby  that    cooed     to     me; 


0,6  THE    McNIELS. 

But    my    heart    grew    hot    as    the    soldiers'    tread 

Went     past     our     cottage,     and     my     brow    burned 

[red 

For    all    I    was    fettered    and    burdened   so, 
I    was  half  ashamed    that    I    could    not    go. 


Well,    the    draft    came    on,    and,    the    worst    of  all, 

Mine    was    the    very    first    name    to  call. 

How    I  reached  my  cottage  I  never  could  tell, 

How    I    broke    the    news    to    my    wife — ah,  well! — 

Somewhere    I    have    read    of  a    head    turned    white 

By    the    sorrows    that    crowded    a    single    night. 

O!   how    swiftly    the    hours    passed    by, 

As    we    questioned    the    future,     Mary    and    I : 

Mary   had    folded    a     shirt    or    two, 

An    extra    pair    of  socks, — then    drew 

From    the    drawer  a    Testament,  faded  and  gray, 

The    children    had    carried    on    a    Sabbath    day, 

With    a    little    yarn    and    a    hank     of  thread : 


THE    HOSPITAL. 


97 


"  You  will  need  them  sorely,"  mv  poor  wife  said. 
Then  she  boiled  some  coffee,  and'. spread  the  hoard 
With  the  daintiest  fare  of  our  scanty  hoard; 

For     a     moment     we     stood    where    the    wee    ones 

[slept, 

Then  she    threw    herself  into    a    chair    and    wept. 
'•  O,    darling!    cannot    we    trust,"    I    said, 
"Who  feedeth    the    ravens,    for  daily  bread — 
Clasping    His    hand,    through     shadows    dim, 
Cannot   we    cast    our    burden    on    Him?" 

.V    step    creaked    over    the    frozen    sill, 
And    a    face    looked    in — it    was    Charley    Hill, 
Such  fellows  you   find   in    most  every  place, 
Whom    the    people    call     a    very    hard    case, 
But   many   good  deeds  had  that  reckless  one 
Mixed    with    the    evil    that   he    had     done. 

"Good    morning!1'  he  said;  "you    might    as    well 
Put    olF  that  troublesome,  sad  farewell: — 


9  THE      MCXIELS. 

I    am    going    to    sec    this    Rebellion   through, 

And    will    call    my    name    in    the    ranks    for   you. 

Not    a    word    of  thanks,    for   cannot    you  see 

There  isn't    a    soul    to    lament    for    me — 

Xot  a  chick,  nor  a  child,  nor  a  mother  to  weep;— 

So    now  go  back  to  your  bed    and   sleep." 

But  he  turned,  with  his  hand  on  the  latch,  to  say 

"  You    can    pray  for  Charley  whenever  you  pray.' 

You    sec  I  am  left  to  my  family  still, 

But   here    is  the  grave  of  poor  Charley  Hill. 

We    have    scraped    and    gathered    for    more  than  ; 

[year, 

To    lav  by    the    money    that    carried    me    here, — 

The    hand  of  my  first-born  framed    this  wood, 

But,  O!  by    mv    life,    if  I    only    could, 

A    marble    monument    reared    should    be 

For  the    man    who    has    given    his    life    for    me! 

Then    I  stood  and  thought,    as    the    sunset    gold 
Deepened    to    purple  on    tower    and    tree, 


THE    HOSPITAL. 


99 


Of  that    old  love    story  so  sweetly   told, 

Of  the   Man    who  has  given  His  life   for  me. 

Weary    and    worn    to   a    skeleton    form, 

He  lay    on    his    couch     of  pain : 
His    prayer  at    evening    and    his    prayer    at  morn 

Was    to  visit    his    home     again; 

He    talked    of   his  mother,    far  away, 

He    talked  of  his  lonely  wife; 
When    the    fever    frenzied     his    aching     head, 
And    loosened    his  hold    of    life. 

We    told    him    his    feet    might    never    again 

Walk    over    his    native  sod, 
But    ere    long    he    should    tread    the    golden   streets, 

A.t    home    in    the    city    of    God. 

We  told    him    his    eye    might    never    behold 
The    face   of    his    best   beloved : 


IOO  THE    McXIELS. 

He    should    welcome     her     there,    by  the  life-river 

[fair, 

In    the     garden    of    beauty    above. 

He    wept    and    whispered    so    long,    so  long, 

So    many    long    weary    years; 
And    my    widowed    wife    and    my    little    one 

Alone    in    the   world     of  tears. 

We    shredded    a    lock    of  his    long,    fair    hair, 
The    love-words  were    written,    he    said, 

A    great    peace    descended     from    God    to    his    soul 
And  the   last    of  his    earth  -  trials    fled. 


It    was    only    a    tear,    a   tear,  and   it  fell    on    the    old 

[man's  hand, 

As    upon    the    charred    and     blistered    sod     falleth 
[the    sweet,  sweet  rain; 

When  his  iron   frame   writhed    in  agony  and  forced 

[the    unwilling   moan, 

As  the  tempest  bends  the  oak-tops  to  its  autumn- 

[song    of   pain. 


THE    HOSPITAL.  1OI 

It    was  only   a    tear,   a    tear,  and    the  fountain  from 

[whence    it    fell, 

Since    its  early   azure    brightness,   had  been  faded 

[by     many    such; 

But    the    face    had    the    look    of  an  angel,  the  love- 

[blent    magic  spell, 

Though    washed    to    an  ashen  paleness  by   weep- 

[ing    over    much: 


All    its    softness,  and    its   roundness,  and   its  rosincss 

[were    gone. 

I    said   an    angel :  —  more    like    a    saint's    that  pa- 

[tient,  peaceful   face ; 

It   was   autumn's   ripened   promise,    it   was  twilight's 

[labor    done, 

'Twas     a     soul     refined     and     chastened     by     the 
[moulding  hand  of  grace. 


I    said    the    face    of   an    angel,    but    an    angel's    face 

[is    bright 

As    the    full,    clear,    radiant    splendor  of  the  day- 

[ligbt,  golden,    warm; 

And    this   had   more  of   the  sweetness  of  the  silent, 

[starry    night, 


102  THE    MCNIELS. 


Of  a    night    when    the     moon-kissed    billows    are 
[resting    from    the    storm. 


I    said  the    face    of  an    angel,    but    an  angel  knows 

[no    sin, 

Has    never    to    grapple    and     overcome    the    force 

[of  a    wrong    desire, 

To    storm   his    own    heart-fortress    for    the    foe    en- 

[trenched    within, 

To    quench    in    briny    tear-showers    the    flame    of 

[a    passion   fire. 


'Twas   just     at    the    battle's    commencement,    when 
[the    shrill-toned,    fiendish    yell, 

And    the     tire    of    the    foe    burst    on     them     with 
[its    death-hail  thick    and   fast, 

As     his     comrades     bravely     rallied,    the    old    flag- 

[bearer    fell, 

Bleeding     and     crushed     and     trampled,     and    the 
[wheeling    legion    past. 


Recked    he    of    the    old    battalion,    how    the    tide  of 

[the    conflict    went? — 


THE    HOSPITAL. 


103 


In    that    mangled    frame    was    ragimr     a    struo-o-]e 

~        o  o  ?*> 

[of   life    and  death, 

When      hack      from      his     post     of     honor     in     the 

[crowded    hospital  tent, 

In    wild,  pain-wrought  delirium   he  cursed  failing 

[sight     and    hreath. 

I    said    that    a    warm    tear  gathered  and  fell  on  the 

[old    man's    hand ; 

As  he    saw   with   his  death-dimmed   vision  a  kind 

[face    over     him    bent, 

There    seemed    to    glimmer    above    him    the    skv  of 

[another    land, 

And    the    old    home-roof    of  his    childhood    grew 
[plainer    than    the    tent. 


The    kiss    of    an    onlv    sister    swept     over    his    cold 

[lips   now, 

And     he     knew    her    bv   the  mother-look  imprint 

[upon     her    face ; 

He     knew     her     by      the    brown    hair    yet     waving 

[on    her    brow, 

Where     the     old     fair     child-lines    lingered,     with 
[their    gentle    curves    of  grace. 


1 04  THE    McNIEI.S. 

They    had    loved    and    played  together  in    the  dear 

(days    of    the   past, 

They    had    danced    and    sung-    together  when  life 

(was  in  its  May ; 

But,    apart,    they    learned    the    lesson    we    all  must 

(learn    at  last, 

Of  emptiness,  of  bitterness,    of  falsehood  and  de- 

[cay. 


One    heart    had   warred   with  error,  and  at  last  had 

(overcome, 

The  other  taken   captive  had  become  the  tyrant's 

[slave; 

One   Ind   risen,  ever  risen,  child   of  morning  to  the 

(sun, 

The    other    in    earth's  littleness  and  folly    dug  its 

(grave. 


Hand    in    hand,    and   hearts  together,   in    a    solemn, 

(silent    fold: 

"Christ   have    mercy!"     was    the    last    cry    of   his 
(life-thought  as    it    fled; 

Did    she    heed    the    battle    tumult    as    it     near    and 

(nearer    rolled  ? 


THE    HOSPITAL.  1O: 


Did     she     feel     the     sulphur    war-smoke   as    they 
(bore  her  from  her  dead? 


God's     great     mercy,     soldier    brother,    be    it    with 

(thee  at    His  bar! 

Jesus'    presence,    O,    my    sister!    on    thy    mission- 

(labors    shine ! 

Star    of  love    that    led   the  "Wise    men,"  ever    more 

(thy    guiding  star, 

Crown    of  "  Him    that    overcometh,"  bright,    un 
fading,    shall    be    thine. 


I    pray    that    I    never    again    may   list 

To  such    pitiful    wailings    as    came, 
Piercing  the    hush    of  that    twilight    through, 

Entering     heart    and     brain. 
After  the    toils  of  a   toil-filled    day, 

I    lay    in  the  quiet    deep 
That    reigns    on    the    border  and    stretches  away 

Into    the    kingdom    of  sleep. — 
A  knock  at    my    door — 'tis    the    ward-master    calls: 

"  Can    you    come?  there   is    no  one  but  you 


IC)6  THE    MCNIELS. 

That    can     manage    the     woman; — 'tis    the  wife    of 

(the    man 

Who    died    in    the     ward    No.    two. 
You    remember    the  -man — he    was     buried    to-day, 

This  morning,    and    now    she    is  here, 
Too    late  for    one    word,  too  late  for  one    look — 

'Twill  unsettle    her    reason,     I    fear." 
The    mourner  lay    stretched    on    the    vacant    cot, 

Where    his    life    slowly    wasted    away; 

She    must  have    been    poor,  for  her  garments  were 

(worn, 

And    old,    for  the    black    and    the    gray 

In     her    thin     locks    were     mingled,    and    hardened 

(and  brown 

Her    hands,  like   a  woman    who  washes    through 

(town. 

On  the  morrow  we  rode  in  an  ambulance  down 
Where  they  buried  the  Union  dead. 

The  day  was  delightful,  like  June  in  the  North, 
With  the  bluest  of  sky  overhead; 


THE    HOSPITAL.  IO- 

But    the    graves    were   unsodded,    and    thick    vellow 

[clay 

Clung-    like    paste    to    our    feet    and     garments    that 

(day. 

She    gathered    a    handful    and    bore    it    away — 

O,    Love— that    makes  sacred  the  soil    and  the  sod! 
Thou    banished     of  Eden,    O,    daughter    of  God! 


July    the    tenth — Vicksburg    has    fallen! 

Not    all    in    vain    are    the    tears    we    nave    shed; 
Back    to  the    rear    our    steamships    are    bearing 

The  sick  and   the  wounded,   the  dving   and  dead. 

Thanks    be    to    God    for    victory    given, 

Thanks,  not  in  vain    are  the    blood-torrents  shed, 

Thanks,    though    we     wipe     off     the     dew     of    the 

[dying, 

Thanks,  though  we    fold  the  white  hands  of  the 

(dead. 

A     message     from     home,     from    a     mother's  heart 

(breaking, 


1OS  THE  MCNIELS. 

As    many    have    broken,  the    price    of  our   joy — 
O,    bitterest    anguish!    O,    wounded    and    missing! — 
Asking:    in    vain    tor    a    trace    of  her    bov : 

O  ^ 

Asking    of    Bruce, — the     bright-browed,    the    glad- 

(hearted, 

Our     own     precious      home-boy,    the     regiment's 

(pride  ;— 

O,    better,    surrounded    by    comrades    and    brothers, 
If  he  in  the  van  of  the  conflict  had  died! 

Breathe    ye    not    a    word    of  the  prison-pen  to  her, 
The  death-line  surrounding  the  prisoner's   fate; — 

Not    a  word  of  the  desolate  longing  and    waiting, 
Not  a  word  of  exchanges,  delayed  till  too  late; — 

Not  a  word  of   the   July    sun    beating    upon    them, 
Or  the  shelterless  under  a  storm-shrouded  sky, 

Not     a     word     of    the     devouring    death-pangs     of 

(hunger: 

Keep    silent    all  this,    or  the  mother  will  die! 


THE    HOSPITAL.  IOO 

There    came    a    time    when    the    surgeon    looked, 

Into    my    face    and    said, 

"You    are    wearing    out;    you   must    stop  and   rest." 

But    still,    with    a    dizzied    head 

And  departing   strength,    I    labored    on. 

[    recall    it    now,    and    it    seems, 
As    bereft    of  heart    and    as    purposeless 

As    we    toil    sometimes    in    our   dreams: — 
The    fires    of  a    fever    were     draining    life, 

Coming    on    in    such    slow    degrees, 

<— *  o  ) 

That    I    kept    repeating,    "  I    am    not    sick," 

And    then,    on    my    hands    and    knees, 
Climbed    up    to    my    little    secluded     room, — 

And,    O!  how    I    wept    and    wept; — 
I    cannot    recall,   was     it    night    or    noon, 

When    I    woke,    or    how    long    I    had    slept; 
But    anxious    faces    looked    into    my    face, 

And    nurses    bent    over    my    bed, 
And     I     knew     by    the    guarded,    whispered    tones, 

And    I    knew    by    the    careful    tread. 


I  IO  THE      MCXIELS. 

I  was  sick  indeed — then  I  closed  my  eyes: 
I  remember  no  more  than  this, 

That  I  seemed  to  be  drifting  away,  away, 
To  silence  and  nothingness. 

I    again    awoke,    and    the    morning    sun, 

Just    lifted  above    the    range 
Of  eastern    ridges,    looked     into    my    room — 

But    everything    seemed  so    strange. 
Through    lifted    sashes    the    early    spring 

Kept    flinging    her    rich    perfume, 
Rifled    from    peach    orchards    over    the    wav, 

And    the    garden    was    all    in    bloom ; 
I    gazed    up    dreamily    into    the    sky, 

Where    drifted    a    sail-like    cloud, 
I    wondered    if  robins    ever    before 

Warbled    so    sweet  and    loud. 
Some    one,  asleep  in    an    easy    chair, 

Leaned    over    the    foot    of  my    bed, — 


THE     HOSPITAL.  1  j  i 

I    for    a    moment    with    memory    strove, 

Then    burst    into    weeping    and    said: 
"Daniel    McNiel,    tell    me     quick,    is    it    you?" 

Thank   God!     And    my    dear    old    friend, 
Wiping  the    tears    he    fain    would    repress, 

Above    me    did    tenderly    bend. 
"  O,    Daniel,    how    are    the    dear    ones    all? 

O,    Daniel,    when    did    you    come?"- 
But    he    placed     me    gently    and    firmly    back, 

Then    he    sat    down    and    talked    of  home. 
There    were    lines    of  care    I    had    never    seen 

Crossing    his    brow    of  yore, 
There    were    threads    of    silver    in    hair    and    beard 

I    never    had    noticed    before. 
All    at    once    the    sorrowful    truth    came    back, 

And    the    visions    of  sickness    fled, 
As    one    should    arise    and    wrestle    with    fate, 

Go    forth    and    bury    the    dead. 

Ye    who    have    mingled    your    songs    in    the    light 


I  12  THE     MCXIELS. 

Of  the    radiant    summer    day, 

Ye    who    have    met,    on    a    festival    night, 

To    revel    its    hours    away ; 
Can    unclSsp    your    hands   with    never    a    thought 

To    deepen    the    light    good-bye, — 
Can    sever    the    linking    of   gossamer    life 

With    never    a    sigh! 

But     ye     who    have     labored    together,    till    months 
Have    lengthened    themselves    to    years; 

Ye    who    have    trodden,    hand     clasping    hand, 
A    pathway    of  terror    and    tears; — 

Heart    beating  to  heart,  hand  clasping  hand, 
Through    darkness    and    anguish     and    tears:— 

Ye    may    not    sever    the    links  of  fate, 

Ye    may    not    go    forth    and    forget; 
You    will  find  them    drawing  you,  drawing  always 

Into    the    vale    of  regret; — 


HOME.  113 

You    will    pause    and    listen    as    memory    pleads, 
Plaintive    and    low    and    sweet; 

And    the    broken    thought    of  her  bvc-gone   days 

i 

She    will    over    and    over    repeat. 

Faces    will    come    and  look    down    on    you 

Framed    in    the    sunset    beams, 
Voices    long    hushed    in    the    chambers    of  death 

Like  a  warning   will  ring  through  \  our  dreams  ; 
Sometimes,    in    the    light    of  the   moon-ruled  night, 

Motionless    you    will    stand, 
And    feel    the    blessing    of  voiceless    love, 

And    the    clasp   of  a    shadowy    hand. 


HOME. 

The    vines    that    clambered    o'er    the    eaves 
Were    putting    forth    their    first    green    leaves, 


114  TIIE    M'-'NIELS. 

The    laurel,    queen    of   waste    and  wood, 

Clothed    in    the    bloom    of  spring-time     stood, 

The    snow-drop    in    the    forest    dell, 

The    violet,    the     mountain    bell, 

Were    in    full    bloom,    as    if  to    greet 

The    wanderer's    returning    feet; 

The   hazel    where  a    child    she    played, 

The    river-border  where    the     maid 

In    silent    contemplation    strayed, 

The    hillslope,    green    as    emerald    now, 

Where,    woman    grown,    she    breathed    her    vow, 

The    willow-bridge,    the    half-way    stone, 

The    dear    church    hidden    by    its    pines, 

Were    all    the    same, — on    us    alone 

Was    wrought    the    ruin    of  the    times. 

Helen,    the    wife,    now    graver  grown, 
Had    that    far    look    within    her    eyes, 
Of  one    who    stands    upon     the    shore, 


HOME. 

Where    blends    the    ocean    and    the    skies, 
Though   deafened    bv    the    billows'    roar, 
Still    hopes    to    catch    a    lover's    tone 
Sent    back    in   answer    to     her    own. 

The    mother    looked    to    me    like    one 
In    bridal    garments,    at    the    gate, 
Who    reads    upon    her    sunset    skv 
Its    warning — "Wait!" 

A    timid    sadness    filled    the  look 

That    answered  to    our  questioning  eyes, 

As    if  the    Bridegroom's    midnight     call 
Would    not  surprise : — 

A    little    struggle,  ere    the     soul, 
Victorious   in    its    latest    strife, 

With    yearning    love    could,    one    by     one, 
Lav    down   the    cares    of    life. 


I  1 6  THE    MCNIEI.S. 

And    then    the    harvest    of  the    year 
Was    garnered  ;    and    the    tassled    corn 

Stood    full-eared,   waving    in    the    clear 
October    morn. 

From     severed    lives    a    new    life    rose — 
•A    babe    was  born  ; 

But    scarcely    was    there    time    to    shred 
One    ring    of  gold    from    baby's    head, 

For    him    away,    when    it   was    dead. 

Before    the    corn    was    gathered   in 

A    deeper    grave    was   made — 
The     mother    of  the    household    passed 

Into    the   valley's    shade  : 
But,    when    upon    the    other    side 

The    gates    of   Eden    opened    wide, 
A    glory,    piercing    through    the     night, 

Made    all    our    earth-home    strangely    bright. 


HOME. 

Think    you,    with    heart    aflame,    we    read 

Of  Sherman    marching1    to    the    sea  ? 
How    Grant,     down    through    the    wilderness, 

Was    pressing    Lee  ? 

And    think    you,    that    with    heart    aflame, 
We    gloried    in    the    rising    fame 
That   clothed    with    pride    our    brother's    name? 
Whose    steady    valor    in    the    fight, 
Whose    firm    adherence    to     the    right — 
Brave    with    the    brave  ;    true    with    the    true — 
Brought    high    reward    to    honor    due  ; 
For    in    those    days    of   quick    events 
Were    unknown    heroes    brought    to    view 
In    council    halls    and    martial    tents. 

With    heart    aflame    with   joy,    we    heard 
Of   Richmond    fallen  ;    and  the    roar 
Of  cannon    wrote    our    jubilee 
From    western    mountains    to  the    shore  : 


IlS  THE      Mt'NIELS. 

But   sometimes    mute,  and    sadr   and   pale, 
We    wondered    at    His    hidden    ways  ; 

And   thought    of  those    within    the    veil. 
Who    saw    Him    face    to    face. 

They    who    had    quaffed    the    bitter    cup, 
When    life    was    hopeful,    fair    and    bright. 

And    yielded    all    its    promise    up, 
To    walk    with    Him    in  white  ; 

Some    earnest    souls    of  deep   desire, 
To    fullest    tension    had    been    tried  ; 

And    in    the   flood    and    in    the    fire 
Been    purified  ; 

New,   deeper    lines   of  thought    and    care 
Furrowed    the    brow    of  middle    life  ; 

And    men    came    out,    where    boys    had    gone 
Into   the    strife  : 


HOME. 

So,    when    the    peals     of  joy    rang    out 
Across    the   land    from    sea    to  sea; 

We    sat    and    counted     out   the    cost 
Of   victory. 

The  past  !     the    past  ! — we    almost    felt 
The    echo    of  its    ghastly    tread  ; 

And    turned    around,    as   if  to    meet 
The    faces    of  the    dead. 

I    said,    "the    days    were    fore-ordained, 

When    war    upon    the    earth    shall    cease  : 

Not    now — though    round    Columbia's   brow 
Be    wreathed    the    oliye    branch    of  peace 

Not    now.      Across    Atlantic's    wave 

The    wail    of  death    and    danger    comes  ; 

Where    truth's     upheavings    lift    and    shake 
To    their    foundation,    Eastern    thrones. 


12O  THE 

We    hear    of  tottering    dynasties  ; 

Of  war's    wierd    wayward    chance  : — 

For    the    vineyard-bordered    Rhine   I    wept, 
And    the    sunny    vales    of  France  : 

We    hear    of  martyred    patriots, 

And    noble    captains    slain  ; 
But    a    thousand    death-white    brows    I   see 

Upon    the    carnage    plain. 

And    louder    than    siege-guns    roar, 
Or    the    long-roll's    'larum    wild, 

Comes    the    frantic    mother's    wail    of  grief 
Above    her    orphan    child  ! 

Alas  !    for    the    poisoned    serpent    trail 
O'er    that    goodliest    garden    spot  : 

Alas  !    alas  !     for    the    ruined    town, 
And    the    peasant's    rifled    cot. 


HOME. 

Roll    swiftly    on,    O    circling    years, 
Till    the    night    of  sin    he    o'er  ! 

Till    the    blood  drenched    earth    he     purified, 
And    man    learn    war    no    more. 

Fold    down    thy    curtain-folds,  O    Death, 
O'er    the    slayer    and    the    slain  ! 

Till    One    shall    reign    in    righteousness, 
Whose    right    it    is    to    reign." 

I    said,    when    heart    and    soul     were    .stirred 
To     meet    the    dim    decrees    of    fate, 

"  That    trifling    things    should    never    more 
A    tumult    in    my    life    create. 

That,  having  felt  the  pelting  blast 
Of  arctic  storm  and  winter  rain — 

No,  never,  with  the  sun  o'erhead, 
Would  I  complain  : 


122  THE   MCXIEI.S. 

But,    when    the    tension    was    withdrawn, 
And    daily    life    to    common    things 

Sank    back,    think    ye    not    that    I    felt, 
As    keen    as    ever,    little    stings  ; 

That    buzzing,    vexing,    insect    care 

Spun    webs    about    me   just    the    same, 

That    tripped    my    feet    at    hidden    snare, 
And    grieved    my    heart    at    little    pain. 

They    handed   Him    the    nation's    coin, 
To    tempt    the    Master  ; — from    that    day 

The    wisdom    of    our    Lord's    reply 
Hath    never    passed    away. 

if   bow    ye    must    to    despot    sway  ; 

If   tremble    at    the    tyrant    rod  ; 
Render    to    Caesar    but    his    own — 

The    residue,    to    God. 


HOME.  12? 

A    schoolboy    spclleth    on    his    coin 

Such    words    as    these—"  In    God    we    trust." 

Mother,    what    meaneth    this    thereon  ? 
Then    to    the    mother's    memory    must 

Uprise    the    days    this    was    her    hope — 
The    cause    is    just. 

Inscribed    upon    the    little   coin — 

Not    on    the    silver    or    the    gold — 
That    which    the    pauper's    hand    can    reach  ; 

That    which    the    infant    pal  m    can    hold. 

Perhaps,    in    ages    yet    to    come, 

Will    antiquarian    clear    the    r  ust 
Of  ancient    coin,    and    read    thereon — 

"  In    God    we    trust:'' 

And    from    the   page    of  history    glean— 
A    great    Republic    once    was    rent 


124  TI1E     MCXIEI.S. 

By    wars    intestine  :     for    these    days 
This    coin    was    meant. 

All    scattered    up    and    clown    the    land — 
In    farmhouse,    cot,    and    regal    hall — 

There    hangeth,    bound    in    ebon    bands, 
A    picture    on    the    wall  ; — 

Not    beautiful  ;    but    honor    rays 

It    round   with    kindliness    and    grace  ; 

And    oft    the    housewife    stands    to    gaze 
Her    eyes    upon    that    face  : 

And    when    her    latest    born    doth    ask 

What    the    deep    sigh    she    heaveth    meant  ? 

The    woman    says,    with    quivering    lips, 
u  He    was     our    President.1' 

'k  But    teacher    told    me    of  a    score, — 
And    almost    all    the    names    I    know  ; — 


HOME. 

And    was    not    Washington    the    best, 
Who    lived    so    lone:    ag-o  ?" 

O  c> 

Within     the    mother's    eye    a    tear 
Rises,    but    doth   not    fall  : — 

"  This    was    our    martyred    President — 
This    face    upon    the   wall." 

Why,    reader,    was    it   in    the    hour 
Of  doubt,    distress    and    dread, 

That    such    unbounded    trust    we    felt 
In    him,    who,    at    the    head, 

Sat   meek   and    gentle    as    a    child 
Within    the    chair    of  state  ? 

Was    it    the    grace    of   noble   birth  ? 
The    statesman    grand    and    great  ? 

And,    when    across    the    continent 
His    honored    bier    was    borne, 


120  THE    McNIELS. 

What    made     the    youthful   and    the    old 
As    for    a    father   mourn  ? 

Illini  !      land    of  men  !     no    man 
Like    him,    so    true    and    brave  ; 

Whom    thou,   in    our    extremity, 
To    head    the    nation,   gave. — 

None    dear   as    he    who    sleeps    to-dav 
Within    thine    honored    grave. 

-So    dear    to    all — but    dear    the     most 
To    those,    who,    in    our    night    of   pain, 

Uprose    from    slavery,    a    Host 

Long    burdened    with    the    shameful    chain 

Of   mean    oppression;    rose    and    stood, 
One    with    the    human    brotherhood. 

The    hand    that   burst    those    bonds    away, 

Now    moulders    into   dust  ; 
Hut    world-wide    honor    gilds    to-dav 


HOME.  127 

The    name    of  him    who    dare    be  just  ; 
The    man    in    peril,    Heaven    sent — 
Our    martyred    President. 

There  is  a  place  four  turnpikes    meet, 

The    center  of  the  town  ; 
A  common,  where  the  children  play  ; 

A  green  and  rising  mound  : 
It   fronts  the  school,  there  children  play — 

But  'tis  a  sacred  ground. 

There  is  a  snow-white  monument, 

That  you   may,  any  day, 
See,  as  you  enter  into   town, 

And  see  for  miles  away  ; 
And  carved  thereon  are  noble  names, 

That  never  shall  decay. 

The  aged,  with   uncovered   head, 
Beside    it    come    to    kneel  ; 


128 


THE      MCXIELS. 


And  round  and  round,  with  steps  of  awe, 

The  village  maidens  steal. 
Look,  stranger  !    in  that  list  of  names, 

Are  James  and  Bruce  McNiel  ! 


YEAI^S     /IGO, 


; 


YEARS     AGO : 

A    POEM    OF    THE    ADIROXDACKS   : 

RETROSPECTIVE. 

A    few    pale    blossoms,    plucked    upon    the    lawn 
Of    early    youth,    raid   wound    with    autumn    grass 
And    fallen    leaves. 

An    ocean    shell, 

That    beareth    far    in-shore    the    billows    plaint  : 
A    prisoned    song-bird,    ever    trilling    forth 
One    innocent    love    note. 


132  YEARS     AGO. 

An    infant    lost, 

And    buried    by    the    redbreasts    of  the    wood  : 
All    that    is    pitiful,    all    that    is    pure  ; 
That    bears    upon    its    brow     the    dew    of  morn  ; 
That  walks  with  upturned  eves    earth's   wilderness; 
Or    treads    the    heated    share    of  martyrdom; 
I    fain    would    bring1    you  in    this    song    of   mine. 

Be    it    the    withered   grasses,    or    the    shell  ; 
The     faithful    robin,  or    the    fair,    dead,    babe  ; 
Or   just    one    thought  :     receive    it    in    the    name 
Of   Him    who    said,    a    sparrow    falleth    not 
Without    His    eye. 

A    mountain — one    of  Adirondack's    range  : 
Upon    its    sunrise    slope,    and    half-way    down, 
Built    round    an    iron    mine,  a    village    stands — 
A    little    world    awav    among    the    hills. 
Above,    the    unfelled    forest    casts    its    shade 


RETROSPECTIVE.  133 

Adown    the    western    side  :     and    far    beyond, 

Upon    its   summit,    sits    a    little    lake, 

Like    infant    fair    upon    its    mother's    breast, 

Mirroring    the    fleece-clouds    of    an    April    sky  ; 

Mirroring    the    purple    thunder-storm  ; 

The    rose-light    clustering-    about    the    dawn  ; 

The    night-queen,   and    the  star-host,    and  the  trees, 

That    round    it    clasp    their    green  boughs  lovingly ; 

And    there    the    half-breed    hunter  fished    and    trap- 

[ped: 

And    there   were   wigwams  pitched   upon   its  banks; 
And    o'er    its    waters    glided    bark    canoes. 

In    heated    seasons,    men    would    hither    come 
From    crowded    city    walks,    and    walls    of  brick, — 
Of   nature's    wildness    all    enamored    grown — 
To  hunt  and  fish,  the  whole  long  summer  through: 

With     eves     that    had    been    dimmed     by    midnight 

[toil  ; 

With    brows   untimclv     furrowed    bv    thought  ; 


134  YEARS    AGO. 

With    intellect    a    prey    upon    itself ; 
With  cheeks  that  whitened  in  the    commerce    mart 
Of  mammon's    dull    and    sombre    counting-rooms  ; 
And    that    disease    which    feeds    on    wasted    hopes, 
On    broken    hearts    and    half  forgotten   joys  ; 
Would    come    and    ask    of  those    untrodden    wilds 
For    solace,    and    for    healing    and    repose  : 
And    ever,    if  the    wound    was    not    too    deep, 
Kind     Nature,    that    dear    nurse    who    asks    no    fee, 
(rave    them    a    welcome    and    a    speedy    cure. 


A    road,  like  ribbon,  girt  the  mountain's  base, 
And    bound    our    mining    village    to    the    farms, 
Where  bronzed,  hard-handed    farmers,  by  their  toil 
Wrung  from   the  rocky  soil  its  scanty  grain. 
O,    how    unlike    the    vast    yield    of   the    West  ! — 
God's  fertile  prairie-lands — that  fill  with  ease 
The    meal-chests    of  the    crowded    Eastern    vvorld. 
Skirting    the    forest-depths,    a  clearing    stood  : 


RETROSPECTIVE. 


'35 


There  rang    the  woodman's  axe   all    the    dav    long; 

There    blackened    stumps    and     ash     heaps    pointed 

[out 

The    stubborn    warfare    tyrant    man    had    waged 

\Vith    Nature,    in    her    own    fortressed    retreat  ; 

How,    Ishmael-like,    his    hand    of    greed    is    turned 

'Gainst    all   the    rest    of   God-created    good  : 

He    fells    the    oak;    turns   from  its  bed    the    stream; 

Kills    woodland    song-birds,  aye,    from    wantonness; 

Out-crushes    insect-life,    for    very   sport  ; 

Breaks    down  the    briar-rose,    then    flings    aside  : 

And    not    the    ocean,    on    its    coral    bed  ; 

And    not   the   quarry,    with    its    rocky    heart  ; 

And    not    the    subtle    properties    of  air  ; 

Or    the    magnetic    chain    that    binds    the    earth; 

Or    the    volcanic    fires     that    rage    within, 

But    feel,    or   soon    shall    feel,    his    power    of  will. 

When    shone    the    suns    of    April  ;  and    the    snow, 
Melted    from    mountain    top    and    mountain    side, 


136  YEARS    AGO. 

A    thousand    rivulets    come    dancing    down, 
Shining    and    sparkling    like    a   diamond    shower, 
With    mystic    music-song   through    every    dell. 
I    never    stand    where   waters    gush   along, 
But    they    do    tell    me  tales    of  long    ago, 
And    bring    me   heart-aches    over   buried  joy  ; 
Then  shadowy  hands  do  come  and  clasp  my  own  ; 
Then    echoing    tones    of    death-hushed    voices    steal 
Into    my   heart  ;    and    summer    eyes    look    down 
From    every    cloud,    till    thrills    of  mem'ry    bend 
And    shake    me,   like    the    frail    reeds    at    my    feet. 

Between     the    clearing    and    the    village,    stood 

My    mother's    cottage — an    old-fashioned    house — 

Embowered    in    the    apple-orchard    shade. 

In    blossom    season    'twas    the    sweetest    place 

I    ever    saw,    or    e'er    expect    to    see  : 

Behind    the     house,    abruptly    rose    a    hill  ; 

From    out    the    hilKi.le    gushed    a    tiny    spring  ; 


RETROSPECTIVE.  137 

From    thence,    a    little    streamlet,    falling    down, 
Passed  by  the  house   and  crossed  the  field  beyond  ; 
The    dashing    song    upon    its    pebbly    bed, 
Mixed    strangely    with    dream-music    as    I   slept, 
Was   the    first   melody   that    greeted    morn. 

My    father,    a    shareholder    of  the   mine, 

Brought     his    young    bride,    in     their     first    wedded 

[days, 

To    that    sweet   cottage    on    the    mountain    side  ; — 

There,    all    secluded    from    the   outer    world, 

A  world    of  bliss    they  found    between    themselves. 

Well    I    remember    the    first    shadow,    flung 
Like   pall    of  darkness,    o'er    that    sunny    spot  : — 
Our    youngest    pet,  Louisa   \vas    her    name, 
From    school    returned,    a    little    wan    and    sad, 
As    if  presentiment    of  her    coming    fate 
Forecast    its    shadow    on    the    darling's    brow. 
She    took    her    little    testament,    to    learn 


138  YEARS     AGO. 

A    Sabbath    lesson    for    the    week    to    come  ; 
Tvvas    all    about    the    "  Babe    of  Bethlehem." 
That    time-worn    treasure    lies    before    me    now — 
No    gilt-bound    oracle,    or    costly    gift, 
Has    ever    been'   so   treasured    in    my    heart. 


I  low    shall    the    dreariness    that    fell    be    told  ? 
She,    tiny    pail    in    hand,    went    to    the    spring  : — 
No    more    I    saw    her,    till,    upon    the    brink, 
All  drenched  and  cold,    she,  like  a  dead  lamb,  lay : 
That    night    of  terror    shakes    me    even    now  : — 
This    was    my    first    great    sorrow,    and    it    came 
Before    my    heart    had    strengthened    for    its    load. 
Years    never    bring    oblivion    of  the   past  ; 
Though    time,  with    rubbish,  covers    o'er  the  heart, 

Old    wrinkled  scars    and    wounds,    half    healed,    re- 

[main, 

That      sometimes,    by    their    aching,    bring  us    back 
The    anguish-hours   endured    so    long    before. 


RETROSPECTIVE. 


'39 


There    came    a    time,    when    deep    imlifted    gloom 

Closed     down     like     night     around     our     hearts  and 

[home, 
Out-shutting    all    the    sunshine    from    our    lives, 

And  blighting  all  green    leaves   and    fragrant    flow- 

[ers. 
There    came    a    time,    when    only    faith    had    power 

To    lift    us    from    the    sadness    of  the    tomb  ; 

When    orphan    tears    fell    like    unwearied    rain  ; 

When   widowed    lips,    with    speechless    grief,    were 

[dumb. 

Mangled     and     crushed,    they     bore     him    from    the 

[mine, — 

Without   a    warning    and    without    a    word, 
The    parting    kiss    still    warm    upon    his    lips. 
Still,    through    the    eastern    lattice,    shone    the    sun  ; 
Still    hung    the    dew,    like   jewels,  on    each    shrub, 

When    came  the    crash    that  filled    our    hearts  with 

[woe  ;— 

And    then,    another    gray,    unsodded    grave  : 

Within     our     home,     hushed     tones    and    breaking 

[hearts  ; 

Within    our    lives,    a    tear-page    blotted    o'er. 


140  YEARS      AGO. 

Our    Edward   and    our    Eleanor    were    twins  : 
As    like    in    infancy    as   two    bright    buds 
Upon    one    stem — could    scarce   be    told    apart. 
The    same    brown    eyes,    the    long    and    silken  lash; 
The    same    short    curls    of  golden-tinted    brown. 

When,    hand     in     hand,    the     children     trudged     to 

[school, 

A    stranger  could    have  told   that    they   were  twins; 
But    as    this    child-age    merged    into    the    years 
Of  promise,    of  development,    and    prime, 
There  came  a  change;  for  Edward's  took  the  form 
Of  manhood's    vigor,    nobleness,    and    strength  ; 
And    Ellen's    form    was    rounding    into    grace. 

The     short,    brown     curls,    lav    thick    on    Edward's 

[brow  ; 

But    Ellen's    grew    a    massive,    waving    coil. 

His     eyes     had     still     their    frank,    straightforward 

[look  ; 

Hers,    drooped    in    sweet    timidity    and    love. 
Still    were    they    much    alike    in    heart    and    life  ; 


RETROSPECTIVE.  14! 

For     both     were     brave,    and     earnest,    and     most 

[true. 

Their  mother's  prop  they  stood  in    her   lone   hour  ; 
For,  when    she    found    her    means    of  life   withheld 
And    but    a    pittance    left    of    all    our    wealth, 
The    children  left  their  school-life  and  came    home, 
Willing    to    toil,    nor   did   we    see    a    tear  ; 
Lifting1    life's    burden    on    without    a    sigh  : — 

O  o  7 

The    blessing    and    the    sunlight    of  our    home. 


Midway    between    the    twins    and    cherub    child, 
So    soon   to    heaven    translated,    I    was    born, 
With    nothing    of   my    elder    sister's    grace, 
Or    rosebud    loveliness    of   her    who    died. 
It    seemed    to    me    I    could    do    nothing  well, 
Hut    only    think,    and    think,    e'en    from    a    child  :— 
Yes,    I    could    love    with    such    intensity, 
That    all    my    inner    being    throbbed    to    pain. 
With    unclosed    eves,  long  night-hours  would   I  lie, 


142  YEARS     AGO. 

Fearing'    the    loss    of  those    to    whom    I    duns'  •' 

o  o 

In    dreams,  I    passed  the  star-gates  to    that  home — 

That    upper    home,    beyond    all    parting    pain  ; — 

Pressed    upward    by    the    longing    that    I    felt — 

Longing    and    loneliness    that    would    not    cease. 

When    our    dear    father    died,    this    loneliness 

Was    far    more    terrible    for    me    to    bear. 

Oft    through    the    silence   came    his    tender    voice  ; 

Oft    bent    his    face   above    me    in    my    sleep  ; 

Oft    did  I    wake,   his   kiss    upon    my    lips  : 

And    no    more    did    I    doubt    he    came    to    me, 

Than   I    did    doubt    he    loved    me    while    he    lived. 

O,    how    I    loved    the    beautiful  !     and    watched, 

With    hunger-eyes,    my    elder    sister's    face, 

And    turned    away    in    bitterness   and   tears. 

I    would    have    given     all    the     world    to    be 

As   joyous    and    as    beautiful    as    she. 

I    could    not    play,    as    happy    children    play  ; 

Nor    could   I     tell    the    reason    to    myself, 

Thaf    gentle,    gleeful    voices    of  the    young 


RETROSPECTIVE.  143 

Should  cloud   my  brow   with  discontent  and  gloom. 

'Twas    often    said,    "  Sarah     must    go    to    school  ;" 

But    mother    pleaded    I    should    not    be   sent. 

I    think    she    understood    me    best    of  all  ; 

I    think    she    wept    above    me    secret    tears  ; 

I    think    she    trembled    for    me    in    her    heart  ; 

1    think    she    gladly    would    have    folded 

In    her    kind   mother    arms    all    mv   life    long. 

I    cannot    tell    when    first    I    learned    to    pray  ; 
'Twas    further    back    than    memory    can    reach  : 
I    cannot   tell    when    first    I    loved    the   Lord, 
And    thought    of    Him    with    still,    adoring    awe. 
No   more    I    doubted    His    existence,    than 
I    did    my    own,    and    sometimes    not    as    much  : 
For   oft,    in    musing    hours,    I    lost    myself, 

And     merged     my     life     in     blossoms,     rocks,     and 

[trees  ; 

Dreaming    away    long    hours    among    the    hills. 
Those   days,    they    were    not    happy,    and    not   sad, 


144  YEARS     AGO. 

But    something    like    the    twilight,  or    the    dawn  ; — 
Only    they    brought    me    neither    day    nor    night, 
But    wrapped    my   still   lips    like    a    phantom    spell- 

That    spell    is    broken    now  ;    that    dream-life    fled  : 

And,    looking    back,    I    wonder    at    the    child  ; — 

For    scarcely   does    it    seem    that    it    was    I. 

1    know    there    are    some    heart-lives    most    akin 

To    Nature's    subtle    influence    and    laws  : 

There   is    a    kind   of  intuitial    soul, 

Like   harp    yEolian,   played   by    hands   unseen  ; 

And    like    yEolian    music — mournful,    sweet, 

But  fitful  ;   strange  ;    now  breathing  soft  and  low ; 

Now    rising    to    discordant     anguish-tones  : — 

If  voice   be    granted    such,    they    do    become 

The    poets,    prophets  of  their  time    and    age  ; 

Their     thoughts  of  beauty    will   not,    cannot    die  : 

Their    life-songs   echo    down    the   passing    years  : 

Their  words    of   flame    live  on,  through    ages — on  ! 


RETROSPECTIVE. 


H5 


But    some    there    he    who    never    find    a    voice  ; 
Whose    imaged    heauty-visions    lie    entombed 

Within    the    soul  that    formed    them,   ne'er  brought 

[forth  ; 
Or,    clothed    with    words,    go    out    into    the    world: 

And    there    be    poet-spirits,    meanly    clad 

In    fleshly    garments,    so    no    one    beholds 

The    rare    thought-jewels    that    are    hidden    there, 

Like    fountain    bordered  round    by    noxious  weeds, 

Which,    shutting    out    the    sunlight    and    the    stars, 

Hide     its    cool    waters    from    the    traveler, 

Who    doth,    upon    its    brink,    lie    down    and    die. 

Not    always    doth    the    soul    look    from    the    eyes  ; 

Or   beams    in    smiles    the    heart-life    on    the    lips. 

Some    noble    natures    that    might    bless    the    earth, 

Like    unused    metals,   do    corrode    and    rust. 

O,    'tis    the    talent    hidden,    bringeth    woe  ! — 

Fond    mother    do    not    ask    it  for    thy    child  ; 

O,  soul    pray    not   that    it    be    granted    thee  ! 


LUCRECE. 

One    bright  June    clay  a    missive    came    to   us, 
For  Edward,  post-marked  from    a   Southern   town: 
As    brother    told    us, — from    a    college    mate, 
Who    felt     with    failing    health,    the    need    of  rest. 
Might    he,    and    his    young    sister,    come    awhile, 
And    nestle    in    our    home-nest,    'mong    the    hills  ? 

For,    though    they   had    great  wealth   at    their  com- 

[mand, 

They    had    no    parents- — therefore    had    no    home. 
Sister    Lucrece    was    wearied    with   the    whirl 
Of    city    life,   and    much    desired   this    change  : 


I.UCRECE. 


I47 


He    wrote   that    all    their    family    were    gone  ; 
That    both    their    parents    died    in    the    same    year. 
They    two   in    this    wide    world    were    all    alone. 

The     slow,    sure    plague     that     swept     away     their 

[friends, 

Had   fixed    on    him    its    firm,    unyielding    grasp  : 
And   he    was    weary  now,  from  morn   till   night  : — 
He    wanted,    most    of   all,    a    loving    home — 
A    quiet    place,    to    gather    strength,    or    die. 

Anon    they    came.     Truly    upon    his    brow 
The   seal  of  death,   thus   early,    had    been    set  : 
His    eyes    had    caught    a    far-ofF    look,    as    if 

His     thoughts     and     heart-hopes    centered     not     on 

[earth  : 

Upon    his    burning   cheek,    the   long,  dark  lash 
Drooped    wearily  ;    and,    as  he    laid    him    down 
Upon    the    snowy    couch    we    had    prepared, 
He    drew    my    mother's    hand   within    his    own, 
And   whispered,    "  Be    my    mother    for    awhile  ;— 
The    little   while    God    gives    me   leave  to    stay." 


148  YEARS      AGO. 

And    with    him    came    Lucrece,    a    blooming    girl, 

On     whose     bright     brow     had     twenty     summers 

[shone; 

On  whose  round  cheek  was  still  the  rose  of  health ; 
And    she  was    tall    and    stately;   full    in    form  : 
Back    from    her   brow,  her  black,    abundant    hair 
Was    woven,   in    a    shining,   regal    braid  ; 

And     she    had    great    black    eyes,    and     sweet,    red 

[lips  ; 

A   step   as  firm    and    proud    as  'any   queen  : 

So    still,    so    graceful,    and    so   self-possessed, 

That    I,    at   first,    was    half  afraid   of  her  ; 

But,   when    my   mother  came    and    took    her    hand, 

There    crept    a    wistful    longing  in    her    eves, 

And    all    their  brightness    melted    into    tears. 


One    evening,    as    the   twilight    folded    back 
Its    bright    flame-tinted    curtains    from    the    sky, 
And    hushed    the    world    to    let    her    darlings    rest; 
I    leaned    half  out    the    casement  :    still    as    death 


LUCRECE.  r 

She    came    and    stood    beside    me   for    a    while, 

Her    lily    hand    upon    my    own,    she    said  : 

"  What    are    you    thinking,    all    alone,    my    child  ? 

"  I    do    not    know,"    I    answered    dreamily  ; 

"  I'm    keeping    silence    with    the    silent   night." 

She    bent    her    head,    until    its    shinino-    braid 

'  o 

Did    rest    upon    my    own,    and    whispered    low — 

* 

"  Will    Sarah    be    my    sister    and    my    friend  ? — 
I    always    thirsted    for    a    sister's    love. 
When   Willie    dies,    as    die    I    know    he    will, 
What    friend    or    comforter    have    I    on    earth  ?" 
Forgetting    all    my    bashfulness,    I   turned 
Impulsively,    and   clasped    her    round    the    neck  ; 
And,    from    that    eve,    the    influence    she    wove 
About    me    strengthened    as    the    days    wore    by. 

Still,   she    was    not    familiar    with    the   rest  : 
Some    things    I    noticed    gave    me    real    pain  : — - 
It    seemed    to    me    that   she    could    never   bear 


15°  YEARS     AGO. 

The    searching    of  a    frank,    straight-forward  look : 
She    never   bowed    at    morn    or    evening    prayer. 
Oft    Willie's    eyes    were   fixed    upon    her    face, 
And    then    they    wore    a    sad,    appealing    look  : 
The    death-white    shadow    of  a    pain    intense, 
Would    lay   for    hours    upon    his    still,    fair    face. 
Once    mother    came,    and,    sitting    by    her    side  : — 
"  You    do    not    kneel   with     us,    my    darling    child  ; 
Have  you  no  love  for  Christ  within  your  soul  ?" 
She    started    up,    and,    then    a    little    pale  : — 
"  I    have    no    love    for    one    I    do    not    know  ; 
Your    Christ    is    not     my    God,  for    I    have    none." 

My    mother    turned    away,    without    a    word  ; 
I    shook,    with    awful    fear,    from    head    to    foot. 
There  seemed  to  rise  a  plague-spot  to  her  brow : 

Those    awful    words    seemed     written    there — "  No 

[God  !" 

I    stood    and    looked    upon   her,   from    afar  : 


LUCRECE.  i- 


I    did    not    speak    to   her    all    that    day    long. 
She   sat    at    her    embroidery    all    that   day  : 
She    neither    smiled    nor    spoke:    her    set    face  wore 
A    look    of  bitterness    and    cold    resolve. 
Slowly   the    day    wore   onward    to    its    close. 
Not    always,    when   God    bids    His    children    rest, 
Doth  hush  the  heart  its  throbbing  ;  doth  the  brow 
Cease    aching,    or    the    feyered    pulse    grow    cool. 

I  sat     me    down,  where    smiled    the    hillside    spring 

Within    its    pebbly    basin,    all   alone. 

I    watched    the    stars    outcoming    one    by    one, 

And    thus    I    thought  :     "  He    looks    into    our  liyes, 

To    see    reflected    glory    like    His    own  :" 

And    then    I    whispered,    o'er,    and    o'er,    and    o'er  : 

"  Without  Hope,  and    without  God    in   the    world !" 

Then    threw    myself  upon    the    sod    and    wept. 

How    long    I    lay    and    wept,    I    could    not    tell. 

A    cold,    damp    hand    fell    heavy    on    my    brow  : 


I52  YEARS    AGO. 

A    whisper,    hoarse    and    loud    in     its    dismay — 

"  Dear    little    Sarah,    am    I    lost    to    you  ?" 

I    pulled    her    down    beside    me,    whispering, 

"  Darling    Lucrece  !     O,    do    believe    in    God  ; — 

He    is    so    high,   so    holy,    and    so    pure  !" 

"  What    do    you    know    of  Him  ?"    in    quick    reply. 

"  I    know    what    has    been   written    in    His    book." 

"  His    Book,    poor    child  ;      the     world     is     full     of 

[books ; 

And    I    have    one    I'd    like    for   you    to    read. 

I    found    in    my   dead    father's    library, 

Among    the   rubbish    hid,  a    famous    book  ; 

The    work    of  some    old    wise  philosopher; 

And    all    about    the    origin   ot   things — 

Air,   earth,    and    minerals,    and    hidden    fires. 

Now,    Sarah,    if  you're    sure    you're    not    afraid  ; 

And,    like  our  mother    Eve,   desire   to  know, 

I    have    it    here,    and    you    shall    read — my    book  ; 

But    tell    me    first,    if  you    have    ever    felt 

What    some   do    make    so    much    of — that    your    sin 

Is    all    forgiven    you,  for   Jesus'    sake  ?" 


I.UCRECE.  1^2 

Alas,  Lucrece!    I    never    have,     although 
Dear    sister    Ellen    and    my    brother     have, 
But    I    believe    in    Him    with    all    mv     heart; 
And    then,    you    .see,    I    am    not    like    the     rest, 
Not    half   so    wise    and  good,    not  half  so   strong. 
I    know    I    ought    to    consecrate    my    life, 
I    scarce    can    tell    what    makes    me    put    it  off: 
I    surely    shall    some    day — I     must,    I    must'. 
Give    me    your    book,   Lucrecc;  I'm    not    afraid 
To    learn    all    1    may   learn — and    no\v,  good-night.'1 


WITHOUT     GOD. 

Silent    and    empty    was    our    large    old    room, 

Still    glowed    a    little    fire    within    the    grate, 

Because    our    evenings    on    the    mountain-side, 

Even    in    summer-time,    were    somewhat    chill. 

My    father's    easy-chair    upon    the     hearth 

Had    been    re-cushioned    for    the    invalid, 

My     mother's     work-stand    by    the    window    stood 

And    some    half-finished    garment    lay    thereon, 

And    other    chairs    were    round    a    table    drawn, 

The    dear    old    Bible,  open    at    the    place 

Of  evening    lesson — these  words    met     mine    eye: 


WITHOUT      GOD.  i^~ 

I    read,    "Lead    us    not    into    temptation." 

O,    silent    warning    from    the  friend   of  friends, 

Like    hand    of  love,   when  stray   presumptuous  feet 

On    danger's    brink;  well    had    it    been    for    me 

Had    heed    been    given    in    that    trial    hour. 

I    stooped    and    pressed    my    lips    upon    the   page, 

With    reverent    care    I    closed    the    Holy    Book, 

Unclasped    the    other    and    sat    down    to    read. 

Upon    its    first    page    was    a    pictured    face — 

An    old,    old    face,    with    broad,    o'erhanging    bnr.v 

Deep,     well-like     eyes,     that     seemed    instinct    with 

[life, 

A   mouth    hard-closed    and    set    with    discontent, 
While    charnel    whiteness    seemed     to    cover   all, 
So    full    of    strength,    so    shadowed    o'er    with    woe. 
So    scornful,    yet    so    earnest    in     its     woe, 
It    wrung    from    me    a    shudder    and    a    sigh. 
I    will   not  write    the  venomed    lies    that    ran 


156  YEARS     AGO. 

Through    the    cursed    pages  of  that    awful    book: 
Jts    subtle    reasoning, — Lucrece    had    said, 
'Twas    all    about    the    origin    of  things; 

But    through,    and    through,    this  was    the    teaching 

[still- 
No    God,    no    God    in    all     the    universe, 

That    everything    was    governed    by    fixed    laws 

Immutable    as    destiny;  it    said, 

Man's    soul    was    like    the    spirit    of  the    beast 

That    goeth    downward    into    nothingness, 

» 

New    life    was    resurrection,    and    our    dust 
Sought    out    new     forms    of  life    continually; 
Religion    was    a    myth    of  ages    past, 
Kept    up    by    priests    and    churchmen    to  deceive. 
All  this    was    interwoven    with    such   skill, 
And    made  to  look  so    plausible,     my    faith, 
Unpropped    by     actual   experience, 
Straightway    began    to    totter    to    its    fall. 


\VITIIOUT    GOD.  I-n 

At    first,    I    wept    above    my    ruined    hope, 

And    strove    with    frantic    zeal    to    build    again 

Amid    the    blackness    grasped     and    groped     to    find 
The    old    foundation    stones;  but    sliding    earth 
Admonished,  I    had    built    upon    the     sand. 
Then    I    grew     desperate,    but    still    read    on, 
Unwinding    serpent    coils    of   reasoning, 
Cursing    my    mind    that  drank  the  deadly  draught  ; 
Cursing    mv    hand    that    held    the    fatal    book; 
Cursing    mv    heart    because    it    did    not    break, 
As    my    great    Universal    Sun     went    down. 
I    glanced     around:     God's    Oracle     was    closed, 
Mv    paradise    of   pure    belief   was  lost, 
And    all    tmtasted    the    fair    Tree    of    Life. 

Chilled    to    the    heart    and    spell-bound,  on    and    on, 
Unwinding    all    the    serpent  -  coil    of  thought; — 
The    embers    faded    out     within    the    grate, 


158  YEARS     AGO. 

The    crescent  moon  went  down  behind  the    clouds, 
Great  pitchy  banks  upon  the  western  sky; 

The     night-wind     moaned     among     the     mountain 

[pines — 

As    changed    my    heart-hopes    so    had    changed  the 

[night. 

Still    gave    my    candle    its    poor  feeble    light, 
Like    reason's    fitful    glow    when    faith    is    dead : 
Spell-bound     I    sat    and    read    and    wept,    and    read 
Until    the    serpent-coil    was    all    unwound, 
The    death-charm    woven    and    the    ruin     wrought. 
Thus    one,    with    soul    long    gone    to    its    reward, 
Could    fetter    other    victims    for    the    pit 
In    torture-bands    of  bitter    unbelief: 
The    poison    seeds    he    flung    upon    the    breeze, 
Wind-borne    across    the    ocean    and    the  land, 
Sank    in    the    untilled    soil    of    my    young    heart 
To    ripen    into    fruit    of  sin    and    death. 


WITHOUT    GOD. 


'59 


O,    it   is    \vell   Jehovah    hath    delayed 
His   judgment    sentence    till     the    last    great    day; — 
For,    not    until    the    Great    White     Throne    be    set, 
Until    the    angel    on    the    sea    and    land 

Doth    swear    that    time— frail    time — no     more    shall 

[be, 
And    man's    probation    ended,    will    that    soul 

Know    the    full    measure    of   his    cup    of   woe: 
Not    till    the    last    soul-vessel    hath    gone    down 
In    ruin    bv    the    influence    he    raised, 
Until,  that    still    increasing,     widening    wave, 
Break    on    the    rocks     of   God's     eternal    coast, 
Can    it    be    known    the    mischief   he    hath   wrought. 
Alas,    for    those    whom    he    hath    led    astray! 
Alas,    alas,    for    that     undying     soul! 
For    his    shall    be    "  The    worm    that    dieth    not," 
And   his  "The  fire  that   never    shall    be  quenched!" 

"  Whv    fall    so    soon?"     does    one    in    wonder    ask; 
"  Can    thus    the    teaching    of  a    life    be    turned 


l6o  YEARS     AGO. 

In    one    short    hour    to     settled    unbelief?" 

I    entered  heedlessly  the  tempter's    path, 

And,    grieved,    the    Spirit    of   my    God    withdrew. 

And    through    the    wilderness,    I    trod    alone. 

This    know    I  :     Fallen    nature,    unrenewed, 

Doth    bring    forth    weeds    of    evil    speedily  : 

And    this    I    know,   for   it    was    even    so, 

My    poor    sand-founded    temple    was    no    more: 

The    tempest    came;    the    eold    rain    beat    and    beat; 

My    poor    sand-founded    temple    was    no    more. 

Shivering    with    cold,    and    miserable, 

I    crept  into    the    room    where    Ellen    lay 

In    slumber,    peaceful    as    a    rosy    child's, 

And    deep  ;    for    she    was    wearied    by    the    task 

Of  dear    home    duties,    lovingly    performed. 

How    pure   in    perfect    rest    she,    smiling,    lay  ! 

Her    bible,    open,    on   the    little    stand, 

Near    by    a    chair,    whereon    she    sat    to    read. 


WITHOUT      GOD.  l6l 

From    habit-force    I    knelt    beside    the    bed  : 
Whispered,    "  Our    Father,"    then    rose    up   again  : 
Muttered,    in    bitterness,    "  There    is    no    God  ;" 
But    O,    I    wish,    I    wish    that    it    was    true  !" 

.Shivering    with    cold,    and    miserable, 

I    lay    me    by    my    sleeping    sister's    side  : 

It    seemed    to    me    I    ne'er    could    sleep    again  ; 

For,  through    my    brain,    dark    visions  of  unrest 

Kept    whirling,    shifting,    jeering    all    the    while  : 

But,    when    a    faint   light    deepened    in    the    east, 

With    promise    of  the    day,    I    fell    asleep. 

In    dreams,    I    knelt    beside    my    father's    grave, 

And    laid    a    wreath    of  violets    thereon  ; 

And  filial  tears,  like    dew-gems,  weighed   each  leaf. 

Between    me    and    the    sun,   that    old,    old    face, 

Smiling    in    wrath    and    bitter    scorn,    appeared  : 

A.    hand    of  ice    raised    me    upon    my    feet  : 

A    low,  deep    voice   exclaimed,    "  Thou    art   a   fool  ! 


l62  YE  A  US      AGO. 

Thou     hast    no    father,    as    thou    hast    no    God  ; — 
See  !    Thy    earth-parent    is   but    crumbling  bones  !" 
Then    opened    wide    the    grave  :     I    only    saw 
A  few    white    bones  ;     a    handful    of  damp    mould. 
'Poor    foolish    dreamer!"  cried    the   taunting    voice; 
•'  Cast    all    your    withered   blossoms    in    the    tomb  : 
Soon,    -eery  soon,    ye    shall    be   like    to    him." 

i    woke.      A    cool    hand    lav    upon    mv    brow: — 
"  Dear   little    Sarah,    you    are    ill    to-day.'' 
(),    precious    mother  !     How    I    longed    to    lav 
My    head    upon    her    breast,    and    tell    her    all  ! 
Alas  !     That    there   was    written    in    mv    life, 
For     the    first    time,    a  page    she    might    not    read  ! 
1    only    said,    in    tears,    u  My    head    does    ache  ; 
1    do    not     wish    to   breakfast    with     the    rest." 

That   afternoon,    Lucrece    came    smiling    in, 

With    bounding    step,    and    glad,    unconscious    face  ; 


WITHOUT    GOD.  163 

With    roses    .she    had    gathered    in    her    walk, 
Came    in,    and   laid    her    roses    on    my    bed. 
I    started    up  ;     and    every    quivering    nerve 
Strung    to    its    utmost    tension,    by  despair, 
I'  beckoned    her    to    take    her    roses    hence  :— 

"  Go,  go,    Lucrece  !     You've    robbed    my    heart    of 

[hope — 

All    hope    of  this    life,   and    the    life    to    come  ! 

O,    is    it    so  ?      Is    there    no    life    to    come  ? 

Shut  down,  hemmed  in,  to  this  sin-darkened  sphere! 

Lucrece,    you've     robbed     me,    robbed     me     of    my 

[soul  ! 

Though    it    was    but    delusion,  O,    I    wish 
The    Bible    and    its    promises    were    true  !" 


"  I    have    not    robbed    you,    Sarah,"    she    replied  ; 
kt  Is    it    not    always    best    to    know    the    truth  ? 
Your    peace    was   all    unreal  ;    it    was    like 
The    smiling    of  an    infant    in    its    sleep." 
"  Then  would    you  wake    it    up,  because    it  smiled 


164  YEARS    AGO. 

And    is    the    whole    enlightened    world    asleep  ? — 
The    '  Golden    City,'    is    it    but    a    myth  ? 

The    '  Tree     of    Lite,'    a     fable  ?     l  The    Judgment 

[Throne,' 

We    thought    immutable,    eternal,    but    a    lie  ? 
And    is    there    nothing    stable,    nothing   true, 
That    we    may    hang    our   hopes    and    hearts    upon? 
I've    read    of  prisoners    in    dungeons   kept 
Till  death;    then   buried  'neath  the  cold  stone  floor: 
And,    in    derision,    smiled,    bceause    I    thought 
The    disembodied    soul    could    not    be    barred. 
This    unbelief  shuts    out   all    life    and  joy — 
Entombing    soul    and    body    in    the    dark  ! 


Mv    father    lost  !      I    thought    him    living    still. 
My    buried    sister — she    is    lost    to-dav. 
And    is    it    so  ?     There    is    no    Son    of   God, 
No    Christ  ! — This    is    the    sorest    loss   of    all. 
Lucrece,    what    matters    it    how    soon    I    die  ? — 


WITHOUT    GOD.  165 

Nay,    if  by    mine    own    hand    I    take     this   life, 
It    were    no    sin,    I'd    rather    die    than     live  ; 
But,    O,    my    mother  !     Let    her    still    rejoice  : 
I'd    rather    die    than    ruin    her    belief : 
One    look    from    brother    Edward's    searching    eves, 
Would    filch    its    secret     from    my    burdened    heart  ; 
While,    it    I    died    some    strange,    mysterious    way. 
They    would,    in    time,    to    it    be    reconciled, 
And    think    swec     thoughts    of  angel    Sarah    then, 

When     bloom      the      summer      blossoms     o'er     my 

[grave." 

All    this    I    said    in    sorrow's   monotone  ; — 
The    dreary    level    accents    of  despair. 

All    Lucrcce's    color    Hed  ;— -she    grew    as    white 
As    was    the    dress    she    wore:     she    tried    to    speak, 
But,    for    a    while,    her    voice    was   choked    by  sobs, 
And   drowning    tears,    and    self-accusing    grief: — 
"  Sarah,    what    can    I    say    to    comfort    you  ?" 
'•  Lucrece,    there    is    no    comforter    on    earth  ; 


1 66  YEARS     AGO. 

There    is    no    hope.     If  \ve    did    hut    hclicvc 

In    Christ,    that    were    a    sure    relief  : 

If   Christian    faith    he    false,    it    is    most    sweet  ; 

If  it    he    dream,  'tis    dream    most    beautiful. 

Here,    take    your  dreadful    hook  ! — Go,    hury    it 

So    deep,    no    mortal    shall    hehold    it    more  ; 

Let    this    poor    world    believe    its    better    fate  ; 

Let  wounded    hearts    take    comfort    in    their  Christ: 

Let    mothers    think    their    dead    babes    are    alive; 

And    riven    souls    expeet    to    meet    again  : 

Let    poor,   down-trodden    victims    think    there    is 

A  Throne    of  justice,    uncorruptible. 

The    child    of  poverty    and    wearing    want, 

Believe    in    Heaven's    plenteousness    and    peace. 

I'd    rather    nevermore    behold    the    sun, 

Than    quench    the    faith-light    of    a    single    soul." 


For    weeks,    that  cloud    of    gloom     hung     o'er    m\ 

[life;' 

But,    very    skillfullv,    did    I    evade 


wiTirorr    con.  167 

The    questioning    my    altered    aspect     wore, 
While     brooding   daily    on    the    thoughts    of  death; 
For    it    was    night   and    clav    upon    my    mind, 
To    find    some    way    that    no    one    would    suspect 
The    work    had    been    accomplished    by    mv    hand. 
If  other    thoughts,    than    just    the    one    of   self, 
Had    found    an    entrance    to    mv    morbid    soul, 
I    surely    should    have    wondered    at    Lucrece. 
Grown     suddenly    so    silent    and    so    sad  ; 
And    often,  ,in    the    morning,    did    her    eves 
Look    red   with   weeping,  or    with    watching,  which 
I    could    not    tell  ;     and    she    would    read    for    hours 
To    Willie,    in    my    mother's    testament. 
She    read,    but    in    a    weary,    absent    tone, 
As    'twas     a    penance    placed    upon    herself ; 

At     times,     some     sweet,      kind     words     of  Christ, 

[would    bring 

The    shining    tears   into    her    downcast  eyes  ; 

At    times,    His    solemn    warning   pale    her    brow, 

Or    shake    her,  like    the    wind,  with    sudden    dread; 


1 68  VEAKS     AGO. 

But,  mostly,  she  was  self-possessed  and  calm. 
I  sometimes  thought,  as  she  did  not  believe, 
What  room  was  there  for  tenderness  or  fear  ? 

My    mother,    more    than    usually    you    find 
In  women    of  this    day,    had    sterling   sense  ; 
A    heart,    love-trained  ;    a   cultivated    mind  ; 
A    faith,    unwavering    that    had    led    her    through 
Affliction's    trial-furnace,    all    unscathed  : 
No    weak    and    faltering   disciple,    she  * 
Walked    firmly,    uncomplainingly,    with    God, 
Rejoicing    in    the    spring-time    and    the    flowers  ; 
Rejoicing    in    the    night-shade    and    the    storm  ; 
No    timid,    half  believer    of  His    Word  ; 
Though    versed    in    science,    mother    always    made 
Her    Oracle    of  life,    the    Book    of   God. 

One    day   said    Edward:    "  What    can    ail    the  girls? 
For    sister    is    so    gloomy    and    morose  ; 


WITHOUT    GOD.  169 

And    all    the    time    Lucrece    appears    so    sad. 
They    do    not    walk    together    as    they    used. 
Can    they    have    quarreled  ?     O,    what  pan    it    be  ?" 
Then    mother    said  :    "  My    boy,    I    do    not    know  ; 
I    fear    Lucrece    has    poisoned    Sarah's    mind. 
To-morrow    is    the    Sabbath  ;    let    us    make 
That    day,    a    day    of  fasting    and    of  prayer  : — 
Pray    for   your    sister  ;    pray    for   poor    Lucrece  : 
You    know,    where  two    agree,   what  Jesus    said, 
It    should    be    granted,    let    us    go    to    God." 
Thus   was    our    house    divided    'gainst    itself ; 
Thus    was    the    force    of  evil    and    of  good 
To    deadly   conflict    brought  ;    the    price — a  soul. 
Ah  !     Little    did    I    know    that    summer    morn 
The    league    of  prayer    before    His     mercy    throne, 
That   said    to    powers    of  evil    in    my    soul  ; 
Said    to    the    darkness    overwhelming    me — 
"  Thus    far    thou    mayest,    and    no    further,    go  !" 


THE     WILDERNESS. 

• 

Still    walked     [     in    the    gloom  ;    though    in    God's 

[mind 

The    dawn    had    been    created,    even     now. 

The    tempter's    final    trial    hour    had    come — 

The    day    that    I,    in    desperation,    said 

Should    be    my    last  ;    for    no    one    hath    the    right 

To    bid    me    live,    when    I    desire    to    die. 

There    is    not    happiness    enough    on    earth 

To    overbalance    all    of  human    ill  ; 

Justice    enough,    to    recompense    the    wrong  : 

And,    since    there    be    no    future     for    the    soul  ; 


THE    WILDERNESS.  IJ1 

No    retribution, — aye,    and    no    reward, 

It    never    can    be    sin    to    lay    it    down. 

What    love    is    strong    enough     to    bind     me    here, 

To  suffer  through  long  years,  and  then  grow  old  ? 

We    mourned    Louisa,   just    a    little    while — 

We    scarcely    miss    the    darling    from    our    midst — 

But    think    of   her    as    living    in    the    light. 

Dear    mother  !     She    will    have    one   care    the    less  ; 

And    Edward,    one    the    less    to    labor     for. 

Sweet    Ellen  ! — But    I    have    not    been,    of  late, 

So    sisterly    she    need    to    mourn    for    me  ; 

Lucrece    will    drink    the    bitterest    cup    of  all, 

But    there    will    be    one    comfort,    e'en    for    her — 

Since,    not    believing    that    I    have    a    soul, 

She    will    not    fear,    or    fancy,    mine    is    lost. 

And    so    the    little    taper   light    that    shone 

So    fitful    and    so    feebly,    will    go    out  : 

This   throbbing   heart,    these   busy    hands,  will   make 


172  YEARS     AGO. 

Fit    nourishment    for    other    forms    of  life  ; — 
Maybe    the    roots    of  some    fruit-bearing    tree, 
Shall,    reaching    down,    invade    my    resting   place  ; 
And,    sucking    up    the   juices    from    my    mould, 
Through    all    the    veins    and   life-cells  of  the  trunk, 
Change    me    to    bud,    and    green,  unfolding  leaves  ; 
Maybe    a    thousand    blades    of  grass    or    grain, 
Will    draw    their    vital    nourishment    from    me, 
And,    drinking    in    the    sunshine    and    the    dew, 
With  golden  wealth  make  glad  the    heart    of  man. 

Northward    from    us,    upon    the    mountain    side, 
Long    years    before,  a    mine   had   been   commenced, 
Then    given   over    for    its    present    site, 
Now    overgrown    with    briars,  till    it   seemed 
A    great,   black    cavern,    opening    in    the    earth. 

Thus    had    I    thought  :     .Should    I,     some     day,     be 

[missed  ; 

Should    I    be    found    dead    here,    among    the    rocks, 
And    withering    wild    flowers    scattered    all    around, 


THE     WILDERNESS. 


They'd    think    I    lost    my    footing    and    fell   in:  — 
Lucrece,   I    know,    would    never    dare    to    tell. 


That    Sabbath    morning,    all    the    earth    did    seem 
Fair    as   forbidden    Eden,    as    I    grazed 

*  O 

Adown    the    wooded    valley,    o'er    the    fields, 
Across    a    distant    lake,    upon    the    spires 
Of  one    fair    city    in    another    State, 
The    gold    of  sunrise,    first    upon    the    spires, 
And    then    the    lower    hills  ;    and    then    the    plain, 
All    broken    into    farms  ;    and,    last    of  all, 
The    lowlands,    following    the    river    banks, 
Green    with    its    belt    of  forest,    all    the    way  : — 
This    was    my    world ;    this,    from    my    infant  years, 
Had    grown    familiar   as    my    mother's    face  ; 
But     ne'er,    before    [    stood    to    lof>k    farewell, 
Drank    I    its    beauties,    as    I    did    that    morn. 
I    strove    to    hush    the    rising    of  mv    sobs, 


1^4  YEARS     AGO. 

Lest    some    familiar    sound    should    be    unheard  ; 
And    crowded    back    the    tears,    that    I    might    see, 
With    far-stretched    vision,    every    sight    I    loved. 

I    pleaded    illness,    and    remained    at    home. 
Alas  !     How    like    a    traitor    did    1    feel, 
As    sister    kissed    me,    ere    she    went    away  ; 
The    bitter    cry    that    rose    upon    my    lips  ; 
The    deep    heart-wail    I    smothered    to    a    sigh, 
And    struggled,    as    we    sometimes    do    in    dreams, 
From   which,  strive  as  we    may,  we    cannot    wake. 
The    tolling    of  the    Sabbath    bells    grew     still  ; 
The    footsteps    of   my    dear    ones    died    away  : 
I    hushed   my   heart,  and,  with  deep  calmness,  said : 
"  Now    is    the    bitterness    of  death    all    passed  ! 
Who    is    there,    on    this    earth,    that    hath    the    right 
To    bid    me    live,    when    I    desire    to    die  ?" 

I    stood    at    Willie's    door,    and    then    went    in  : 
"  What    is    it,    little    Sarah  ?     You    look    ill. 


THE     WILDERNESS.  17:5 

Thanks    be    to    God    for    this    sweet    day     of  rest  : 
Dear    ehild,     east    all    your    care    upon    the    Lord." 
His    loving    words    o'ercame    me,    and    I    wept  :— 
A    strange,    quick    impulse    seized    me,    and    I    bent 

And       kissed      his      brow,      and,      whispering,    said 

["  good-bye.'' 

That    Sabbath    day,    within    the    lonely    wood, 
Did    Willie's    words    keep    ringing    in    my    ears — 
"Thanks    be    to    God    for    this    sweet    day    of   rest: 
Sarah,    cast    all    your    care    upon    the    Lord."" 
I    said  :     "  Because    there    is    no    Christ,    no    God. 
To    care    for    me,    therefore    I    will    not    live  : 
Because    the    bright    belief  of  childhood's    days 

Is    lost    for    aye,    therefore    /  "jail I  not  live: 
There's    naught    below    that    can    compensate 
For    such    a    loss,    therefore    I     will    not    live." 


Then,    as     I     walked     and     pulled     the     woodland 

[flowers, 


176  YEARS    AGO. 

I     said  :    "  What    is     my     life    worth    more    than 

[these, 

If  there   be    not    a   soul   within    this    clay  ? 

True,   J  have  power  to  act,    and  think,  and   feel; — 

How   do    I    know   but   these   are  just   the   same  ? 

How    do    I    know,    as    I    break    down    this    rose, 

But    conscious    life    goes    out  ?       How  do    I   know? 

Can    other   forms   of  life   experience 

This  intense   longing,   and    this   drear    unrest  ? 

We    must    have    something  strong  to  lean    upon; — 

We    can    no   more    stand    upright    than    the    vine  : 

Because    there    is    no    pure    and   Holy   One 

To   hold    me    up,  I   cannot    bear    to   live  ; — 

And    you,    wild    flowers,  lie    with  me    in  the  dark; 

I   am    your    sister,    though    not    half  so   fair." 

Thus  murmuring  to   myself,  I   went   along, 
Until    I    reached    the    black    mouth   of  the   pit  : 
Then  I  looked  down  and  shuddered;  I  was  young; 


THE     WILDERNESS.  IJJ 

And   O,    that    morning    was    so    very    fair  ; 

And    Willie's     gentle    words     rang    in    my    ears  : — 

"  Dear    child,    cast    all    your  care    upon    the    Lord." 

The    demon    spirit    that    had    led    me    on 

To    my    destruction,    was    not    yet    cast    out  ; 

A   cloud    of  gray    obscured    the    noonday     sun : — 

It   said:  "Do  not    you   see  how   earth  good  fades? 

How    summer    ends    in    autumn's   dismal  storm  ? 

How    buoyant    youth    must    merge    in    dreary   age? 

See    all    your    blossoms   wither  ! — They   are  dead : 

And   you,    their    sister,    are    afraid    to    die." 


I    went,    and    stood    upon   the    black    pit's    edge  ; 
And    said  :    "  O,    Earth  !    I    bid    you    not    adieu  ; 
I    come    to    rest    me    in    your    loving    arms." 
Just     then    I    heard    a    hasty    step,    and    felt 
Two    arms    about    me,    and    a   rain    of  tears 
Upon    my     face — then    consciousness  was   gone. 


178  YEARS      AGO. 

When    it    returned,    I    lay    in    Lucrece's    arms  ; 
My   cheeks  wet  with  her   tears;     upon   my  brow 

Was    pressed  her     lips  ;     and     in     her    soft    warm 

[hands, 

My    own,    all    icy    cold,    were    tightly    held  ; 
I    started    wildly    up  :     "  You    have    no    right 
To    keep    me    here  ;     nor    do    you    dare    to    tell  !" 

She     held     me     close  :      "  Dear    Sarah,     you     have 

[dared 

To    break    your    mother's    and   your    sister's    heart  : 
I    tell    you,    Sarah,    I    will    dare    to    tell  ; 
For,    should    they    curse,    it    cannot    add   one    pang. 
You    will   not    listen  ? — Then    we    both    will    go, 
And,    at    your    mother's    feet,    confess    the    whole  ; 
Or    sit    you    hear,    and    I    will    tell    you    all  ; 
And,    when    you    hear,   you    surely    will    forgive." 

"  Lucrecc  ;    the    God    in    whom    I    once    believed 
Would    not    forgive,   if  I    did    not    forgive  ; — 
But,    as    there    is    no    God,    I    am    not    bound." 


THE     WILDERNESS.  1 7 

"  Now,    hear    me,    Sarah  :    surely    as    the    sun 

Doth    shine    upon    the    earth,    there    is    a    God  ! 

And,    as    I    do    believe,  truly    I     fear 

That    I    have    sinned    the    sin    that's    unto    death  ; 

For    pray    I    cannot  ;    and    the    very    sky 

Seems    brass    above    my    head.     Not    for    myself; 

But,    darling-,    I    have    tried    to    prav    for    you. 

I    was    about    your    age    when    sent    to    school, 
From    mother's    care    and    guiding'    voice    away; 
An    inexperienced    child,   exposed 
To    chance    direction,    be    it    good    or   ill  ; — 
A    school    where    brilliant    gifts    and   intellect 
Ranked    higher    than    the    graces    of  the    heart. 
I,    for    its    highest    honors,    would    compete, 
And    set    my    rank-mark    second    unto    none  : 
There    first    I    lost    child-innocence    and    trust  ; 
For    clays   and   weeks  passed  by   without    a   prayer 


iSo  YEARS    AGO. 

There    I    imbibed     the    fatal    fallacy, 

That    unbelief  gives    evidence    of  strength. 


vSo,    when    the    sorest    trial    of  my    life 

Recalled    me,    filled   with    anguish,    to    my    home, 

I    was    not    able    to    endure    the    cross. 

I    saw   my    mother,    patient    as    a    saint, 

Grow    weaker,    sweeter,    holier,    every    day  ; 

Then,    in    those    bitter    hours,    I    went    to    God — 

Went    pleading    for    my    precious    mother's    life  : — 

Pleading    and    striving,    as    if  strife    could    stay 

A    ripened    spirit    from    its    upper    rest. 

I    said  :    if  Thou    wilt   spare    her,    I'll   believe. 

Thus    made    I    controversy    with    my    God. 

She   soon    beheld    the   face    of  Him    she    loved. 

She    passed    in    peace     not    knowing    my    resolve — 

My   firm    resolve,    that    never,    never    more, 

Would    I   ask   aught    of  Him,  or    own    my    God  ! 


THE     WILDERNESS.  iSl 

I    saw   my    father   die,    without    a   prayer  ; 

I    never   asked    that    Willie    might    be    spared  : — 

The    Lord    could   do    as     pleased     Him,     with     His 

[own ; 

And,     though     I     walked     the     earth     without     a 

[friend, 

I    did    resolve   that   I    would    never    yield. 
But,  Sarah,  this   sweet  home-life  breaks  my  heart — 
I    feel    so    like    a    serpent    in    the    nest  : 
Though,    for     myself,    I    have    not    dared    to    come, 
I've    bowed    in    dust    before    Him — plead    for    you. 
I    would    give    all    the    world,  to    find    some    one 
Of  perfect    faith,    and    pure,    love-burdened    heart, 
Who  knew   me   not,  and   yet  would   pray   for  me!" 

"  Lucrece,"   I    said,   with    cold    and    cynic    tone, 

"•  It     seems     to     me    you    have    changed     wondrous 

[soon  ; — 

'Till    you    can    answer    those    wise    arguments 
Of  that    old    book    you    were    so    free    to    lend, 
I    tell    you    plainly,   I    will    not    believe  ! 


lS2  YEARS      AGO. 

But,    if  you    wish    to    find    unwavering    faith, 
Then    come    with    me,    and    I    will     show    you    one 
Who    never    doubted    once    in    all    her   life  ; 
If  there  be  such    a  thing    as  answered  prayer — 

• 

You    may    depend   upon    it,    her's   will    be." 
Lucrece    was    truly    humbled  ;    so    we    went. 
I    brought    her    to    a    cottage,   where    was    found 
A    rare    sweet    saint,    who    had    not    left    her   bed 
Through    long,    long    years    of  patient    suffering  : 
Who   lived    alone    for   Christ,   day   after   day, 
By    weakness,    perfected,    in    trust,    complete. 

That    day    she    was    alone.     The    Sabbath    sun 

Cast    glory-rays    upon    her    spotless    bed. 

Ne'er    might    she    tread   the    consecrated    aisles  ; 

But    not     more     holy    those    hushed    temple    courts, 

Than    was    the    solemn    peace    of  that    still    room. 

We    stood    upon    the    threshold,    and    I    said  : 

u  Eunice  !     Lucrece    desires    to    talk    with    you." 


THE     WII.DERXESS.  183 

Then    sat    me    down    before    the    open    door. 
Lucrece    crept    in,    and    stood    beside    her    bed. 
She  said  :    "  I'm   sick    of  sin,    and    want    to    find 
Mv    way    to    Christ  ;    but    O,    I    am    afraid 
That    I    have    wearied   out    Redeeming    Love." 
Eunice    said    quietly  :     "  You    think    you're    lost." 
"  1    know    I    am."     "  Then    do    not    you    despair  ; 
The    Master    came    to    seek    and    save    the    lost  /" 
"  Eunice,    I    cannot    pray  ;     I    find    no    words, 
Although  my    heart    is    yearning    for    His    love, 
Until    it    almost    breaks."    "Pray   with    your  heart," 

Said    Eunice,   "  for     God     knows     the     heart — your 

[heart." 

"  Alas  !     What    offering    have    I    to    bring  ?" 

"  A    broken    and    a    contrite     heart     He'll     not     de- 

[spise. 

"  Will  not  you  pray  for  me  ?     Will  not  you  ask  ?" 
"  Yes,    I    will    ask   our    Father — you    believe." 

And  thus,  while  wondering  at  the  once  proud  girl, 
My    heart    all    bitterness    and    unbelief, 


184  YEARS     AGO. 

Into    the    Kingdom,    as    a    little    child, 

Washed     by     His     blood,    she     entered,   and    found 

[rest. 

If  anything    could    have    convinced    my    mind, 

Those  arguments,    unanswered,    'twas    her    face, 

All    bright    with    hope,  joy-lit,    and    full    of  love  ; 

A    timid    look    she    wore,    as    if  she    trod 

On    holy    ground  ;    and    an    uplifted    gaze, 

As    if  the    Land    of  Life    was    opening    wide 

Its    pearly    portals  :     gentle    as    a    child 

She  plead  with  me    to    make    her    peace    my    own. 

"No,"   answered    I  ;   "  your    mantle,    unbelief, 

I    needs    must  wear;   peace    may    not    come  to  me; 

It    is    no    part    of  my    inheritance." 

Ye    who    are    mothers,    and    have    faith    in   God  ; 
Ye    who    have    children,    in   the    broad    sin-way, 
Unsheltered    and     unshielded,    only    know, 

By    your    own     prayers,    how     mother    prayed    for 

[me. 


THE    WILDERNESS.  185 

All    clay    her    heart-cry  went    above    for    light, 
To    Him    who    lives    in    love's    unclouded    day; 
Within    her   closet's    sacred    solitude 
Her    great    prayer-struggle     deepened    into    power  ; 
And    she,   with    her    petition,   boldly    pressed 
Into    the    presence-chamber    of  her    King, 

Then    light    broke    forth:    she    knew    that    she   was 

[heard  ; 

And,    going    to    a    little    cabinet, 

She     smiled,     and     took     therefrom     a     time-worn 

[book — 

A    gift    it  •  was,    from    one    whose    hand    was    laid 
Upon    her    brow,    beside    baptismal    font. 
';  I    needed    not    the    reasoning,"    she    said  ; 
"  But    this,    perhaps,  may    be    an    outstretched    arm, 
For    the    salvation   of  mv    darling:    child." 


PEACE. 

Meanwhile    did  Willie's    feet    press    hard    the  brink 
Of  death's    dark    billows,    waiting    for    the    call  : 
Meanwhile    dusk    vapors,    rising,    half  engulphed, 
Half   hid    him,    from    the    watchers    by    his    side. 
For    long,    long    hours,    he    lay    in    still    content  : 
Anon    would    rally,    and     speak    thrilling    words — 
Such    words    as    onlv    they    between    t\vo   worlds — 
The    dying    and    the    living — can    command. 

He    said  :    "  I    hoped    to    hold    aloft    the    Cross, 
Proclaiming    pardoning    love    to    sinful    man: — 


PEACE.  187 

The    Master    had    another    cross    for    me. 
Edward,    my    brother,    be    upon    thy    heart 
The    glorious    work    my    failing    hands    lay    down  5 
Thine   be    my    wealth  ; — for  Jesus'    holy    cause, 
O,    let    mine    only   earth-tie    be    thy    care  ! — 
It    is    cuough  ;    thoti    knowest    my    desire." 
Then    his   cold   fingers    clasping    mother's    hand, 
He   said  :    "The    orphan's    blessme    rests    on    thee." 
He    looked    in    Ellen's   tearful    eyes,    and    smiled  : 
"  Ellen,    if  I    had    lived,    I    might    have    told 
Another    story    in    thine    ears  ;    but    now, 
All    that    is    over  -.—dear,    sweet    girl,    goodby." 
He    said  :    "  Lucrece,    I    know    thou    art    at    rest 
In    the    Beloved, — I    read    it    on    thy    brow. 
O,    darling    sister  !    'Twas    the    Master's    pledge, 
He    giveth,    when    He    answereth    our    prayer. 
I    do    not    leave    thee    friendless  :     loving    arms 
Are    all    about    thee,    and    a    higher    love 
Out-weiijheth    all.      1    leave    thee    without    fear." 


iSS 


YEARS     AGO. 


"  Now,    little    Sarah,    by    my    side    sit    thou, 

And    watch,    until   the    final    hour    shall    come. 

Thinkest    thou    this   life-like    taper    will    go    out 

Jn   nothingness,  when  these  clay  walls  come  down? 

I    tell    thee,    Sarah,   God,    to    dying    eyes, 

Gives    intuitions    others    may   not    know. 

I    tell    thee,    Sarah,    even    now    Christ's    hosts 

Are    gathering — gathering    all    about    my  bed. 

I    see    them,   though    earth   sunlight   groweth    dim ; 

I    hear    their  anthems,  though    your   voices    fall 

But   dull     upon    mine    ears.     Well    know    I    now 

How    much    Eternity    outweigheth    Time  !" 

Ah  !     Did    he    know    upon    his    dying    couch  ; 

And    did    I    know,    as    [    sat    silent    there, 

The    first    out-reaching    of  my    youthful    heart 

Had    claimed    him,    as   the    purest    and    the    best. 

Now,   every    fibre   breaking,    by    the    pain, 

I    knew   it,    as    the    death-veil    fell    between  ; 

I    knew    it    through    long,    lonely    after    years. 


PEACE.  189 

A    great    awe    fell    upon    me,    as    I    sat 

And    watched    the    death-tide    in   its    ebh   and   flow: 

And  followed,  with  mine  own,   his  upturned  gaze  ; 

Beholding    visions    unrevealed   to    me. 

He    met    my    look,    and,    pointing    upward,  smiled  ; 

And    once   his   voice    came  faintly    wafted    hack, 

As    from    a    far-off  distance,    murmuring    "  Home." 

Then    he    was    gone.     The   pale,    forsaken   clay, 

Like    an    abandoned    cottage    on    the    moor, 

With    doors    and  windows    closed,  and   hearth-stone 

[cold, 

And    sweet    love-voices    silent    evermore. 
Thev    bore    him    back    to    his  old   childhood  home; 
Back    to    the    meadows    where,    a    boy,   he   played  ; 
Back    to    the    mansion    his    forefathers    reared  ; 
Into    the    room    where    first    he   saw    the    light. 
And    there    old    neighbors,    for    his    father's    sake  ; 
Old   friends    and    playmates    gathered,  for    his  own. 
Returning    "  earth    to    earth,"    and   "  dust    to   dust." 
Yet    not    alone    went    Lucrece    with    the    dead  ; 


I9<3  YEARS    AGO. 

Brother    and    sister    visited    her    home, 
To    ward    away    her    loneliness    of   heart. 
Thus    found    she,    as    her    sainted    Willie    said, 
Fond    arms    around    her — God's    love    everywhere. 

Jn    these,    the    saddest    days    of   all    my    life, 
My    mother    found    the    key    that    did    unlock 
My    past    heart- wanderings  ;    and    I    told    her    all. 
Among    some    cast-off  things    Lucrece    had    left, 
We    found    the    book    of    ruin  :    brought    it    forth  : 

O  3 

And,    in    the    garden,    'neath    fruit-laden    trees, 
We    read    it    over,    mother    and    myself, 
It    was    another  thing    beneath    the   smile 

Of  glorious    daylight — God's   sun    overhead. 
The    same    dark     reasoning    and    subtle   doubt  ; 
The   same    fell    purpose — but  the  spell   worked    not. 
Christ    and    a    mother's    love    its    power    annulled  : 
And    then    the    little    book,    her    pastor's    gift. 


PEACE.  191 

Was    studied,   and    a    blessing-    lay    therein — 

A    blessing-    to    the    mother    and    her    child. 

Faith,    new-createxl    in    my    heart,    cried   out  : 

"  What     hindereth     thee    from    entering-    into    rest  ? 

vSo    thou    believe  with  all   thv   heart,  thou   mayest." 

And,    as    we    bowed    in    praver,  the    Holv    One 

Came    near,  and  placed   his  love-seal    on    my   brow. 

God    giveth    peace.     He    onlv,  giveth    rest. 

To    me,    'twas    sweeter    than    the    silverv    spring, 

When    cliff,    and    rock,    and    burning,  shifting  sand, 

The    dreary    sickness    of  a    hope    deferred, 

Sink    in    the    past,    the   dead    past    traveled    o'er. 

Thus    hath    mv    storv    ended,   just    as    life — 

The  Christ-life  of  my   heart — had  been   commenced. 

Before    that    hearth-stone    doth    a    stranger    sit  ; 

Around    that    hillside    spring,    glad    children    play. 

vSweet    Ellen    left    us    in    a   little    while  ; 


192  YEARS     AGO. 

She    heard    a    cry,    one  solemn    autumn    night — 
"  Behold    the    Bridegroom    cometh  !"    she    arose 

And     trimmed    her    lamp,   and    went    to    meet    her 

[God. 

O,    sister,    many    stars    are    in    thy    crown  ; 
But    mine    adorns    another    diadem. 


And,    even    now,    I    feel    the    loving    touch 
Of   blessing    hands,    that    fell    upon    my    brow  ; 
And,  even  now,  when  twilight  hush    comes  down, 
The  thrill    of  golden  words  fall  on  mine  ear, 
That    may    not    be    forgotten.     Mine    inheritance 
Grows  strangely   rich,  with  dear  ones  gone  before  ; 
For  mother  hath,  at  last,  been  summoned  home. 

But    two    of   us    remain    by     Edward's    side. 
A    noble    woman    walks    the    path    of   life  ; 
Her    husband's    heart    doth    softly    in    her    trust  ; 
Her    children    do    arise    and    call    her    blessed. 


PEACE.  193 

Far,    far    above    the    rubies,    is    her    price. 
Her    husband,    when    he    sitteth    in    the    gate, 
Is    known   among    the    elders    of   the    Lamb. 

In    truth,    God's    ways,    to    me,    are    wonderful — 
All    full    of  goodness,    and    past    finding    out  ! 
While  this  great  world  moves  on,  I,  in  my  heart, 
Keep    silence    still    before    Him,   and  rejoice  : 
What    my   hand    findeth,    do    I   with    my    might  : 
What    my    heart    feeleth,    hide    I    in   my    heart. 
I   keep    the    Oil    of  Grace    within    my    lamp  ; 
For    soon    I    hope    to  hear  the  Bridegroom's  voice 
And    I    hope    to    be    early    at    the    feast. 


LOVE     AND     YOUTH. 

Sweetheart,   the    birds    have    come    again  ! 
Earth,    loosened    from    the    winter's    chain, 
Bares    her    fond   breast    to    April    rain. 
Upon    my    memory,    all   day    long, 
I  lath    lain    this    burden    of   a    song  : 
'•Love    conquers    Time,    for    Love    is    strong.' 

What    matter    then   the    silver-gray, 
Sweetheart,    upon    thy    brow    to-day? 
For  everv    line    of  thought    and    care 


LOVE    AXD    YOUTH.  1 

Is    holv    us    the   hour   of  prayer. 

While    still    unfolds    this    bud    of  truth  ; 

Love    bears    the   palm,    for   "  Love    is    Youth." 

Agre,    with    his    mantle,    cold    and    white. 

May    hide    the    vernal    heart    from    sight  ; 

Yet,    through    the    long,  bright    days    of  spring, 

Sweet    violets    keep    blossoming, 

And    summer    song-birds    sing    this    song  : 

"  Love    conquers    Time,    for    Love    is    strong." 


LOYAL. 

Loyal    to    friend     and    lover  ; 
Clear    as    the    furnace    gold  • 

*"* 

Stooping    to    falsehood,    never  ; 

Too    pure    to    he    bought    and    sold  : 

His    word,  as    his    bond,    unquestioned  ; 
Living    a    life    so    true  ; 

Free   from    all    tricks    in    trading- 
Can    this    be    said   of  you  ? 

In    the    day    of   his    country's    danger, 
He    inarched    to    the    battle-field, 


LOYAL.  197 

Seeking    no    high    commission, 

Scorning    the    base    word — yield  ; 

Willing    to    carry    the    musket  ; 
Willing    to    wear    the    blue  ; 

Willing    to    die,    if    need    be — 
Can    this    be    said    of  you  ? 

Loval    to    his    Creator  ; 

Defying    the    siren,    Sin  ; 
Engaging    the    hosts    of   Satan, 

With    a    zeal    that    is   sure    to    win  : 
He    will    never    lay   off  the    armor, 

Fighting    the    whole    fight    through  ; 
Loyal    to    his    Creator — 

Can    this    be    said    of   you  ? 


THE     LOST. 

In    his    country's    halls    of  Congress, 
With   a    giant    step    he    trod  ; 

And    the    people    listened    to    him, 

As    a    god. 

As    the    tierce    tornado    sweepeth 
Through    the    forest    oaks    its    way, 

So    the    great    heart    of   the    nation 

He    could    sway. 

lie    was    wise    among   the    wisest  ; 
He    was    strongest   of    the    strong, 


THE    LOST.  199 

When   he    hurled   his    tierce   invectives 
'Gainst    the    wrong. 

But   1    saw    his    strength    departed — 
He   had    paid    the    fearful    cost  ; — 

He    had    listened    to    the    tempter  : — 

He    was   lost  ! 

Like    a    wreck    upon    the    ocean, 

Weather-bound    and    tempest-toss'd, 
He    went    down    amid    the    darkness  : — 

He    was   lost  ! 

£  ;fc  #  #  $  9fc 

Her    step    had    all    the    lightness 
Of  the    timid,    graceful    fawn  ; 
And    her    eve    had    caught    the    brightness 

Of  the    dawn. 

Like    the    fragrant    water-lilv  ; 
Like    the    daisv    of  the    wild, 


THE    LOST. 

She    was    pure    and    unsuspecting 

As    a    child. 

But    a    fiend,    clothed    like    an    an<>-el 

&         ' 

The    maiden's    pathway    crossed, 
And    he    lured    her    to    destruction  :— 

She    was   lost  ! 

Like    the    broken    water-lily, 

By    the   tempest    torn    and    toss'd  ; 
Like    the    daisy,    crushed    and    trampled  :- 

She    was    lost  ! 


He   was  young,    and    strong,    and    hopeful  ; 

He    was    generous    and    fair  ; 
But    we    heard    his    shriek    of  anguish 

And    despair  ! 


THE    LOST.  201 

Though    we    begged    him    not    to    enter  ; 

Though    we    plead    the    fearful    cost, 
He    was   lured    upon    the    threshold  : — 

He    was    lost  ! 

And    we    heard    the    fiends    rejoicing, 
And    the   demons    shriek    and    yell, 
As    thev    led    their    poor    chained    victim 

Down    to    hell. 

From    the    loving    arms    around    him  ; 
From    the     altar    and    the   cross  ; — 

In    the    gay    saloon   of  pleasure, 

He    was    lost. 


THE     SINGER. 

She    sat    in    the    door    of   a    cottage    small  ; 

The    people    were    thronging    along    that    way  ; 

We    had     gained    a    victory    over    the    sea, 

And    this    was    a    jubilant    holidav. 

The    sun    came    out    from    behind    a    cloud, 

And    the    little    maiden    began    to    sing  ; 

Her    voice    was    as    sweet    as    the    robin's    call, 

On    the    budded    boughs    of  the    early    spring. 


"Jesus,    lover    of    my    soul,    let     me    to    thy    bosom 

"  [fly  !" 


THE    SINGER.  2O^ 

An    old    man    stood    in    the    street    below, 

Jostled    and    crowded — he    had    lived    too    long  ; 

And,    heavily    leaning    upon    his    staff, 

He    list'    to    the    words    of   the    fair    child's    song. 

Day    after    day,    like    a    heavenly    strain, 

Those    words    kept    coming,    and    coming    again. 

"  Other    refuge    have    I    none  ;     hangs    mv    helpless 

[soul    on    thee." 

A    woman    passed    by    in    a    coach    so    grand, 

With    liveried    driver,    and    footman    tall  ; 

But    she    lowered    her  veil  with    her    jeweled  hand. 

Lest  the    people    should    notice  the    great  tears   fall; 

And    all    day    long,    like    a    sweet    refrain, 

Those    words    kept    coming,    and    coming    again. 


"  Thou,  O,    Christ,  art    all    I    want,    more    than    a.ll 

[in    Thee    T    find." 

An    invalid    leaned    on    his    mother's    arm  ; 

His    eyes    were   as    deep    as    the   dark,    still    night  ; 


304  THE     SINGER. 

A    mocking    flame    on    his   thin    cheek    burned, 
Like    a    funeral    candle's    transient    light. 
Like    the    breezes    of  Eden,    the     sweet    refrain 
Kept    coming    and    coming,    and    coming    again. 

"  Plenteous     grace    with     thee     is     found — grace     to 

[cover    all    my    sins." 

The    ears    of    a    Magdalene    caught    the    strain, 
And   her   lips  of  their  curses  grew  strangely  dumb; 
She    crept   as    near   to   the    white-robed    child, 
As    the    lost    to    the    ransomed    dare    to    come. 
Like    the    pleadings    of  mercy,    the    sweet   refrain 
Kept    coming    and    coming,    and    coming     again. 


On    the    little    grass    plot    by    the    cottage    door, 
Are    the    merry    voices    of  children    at    play  ; 
Hut    the    song    of   the    silvery-toned    is    hushed; 
Under    the    blossoming    daisies    to-day, 
Sometimes    a    Magdalene    comes    and    bends 


THE    SINGER.  205 

Over    the    blossoms,    her    brow    so    pale  ; 
Sometimes    the    bride    of  a    nobleman    kneels 
Down    in    the    dasies,    closely    veiled. 

"Jesus    loves,"    the    old    man    sings, 
A^    he    sits,   and    the    shadows    are   growing    long, 
•'  Thou,  O    Christ,"  through    the    death  room   rings, 
With    the    swell    of  an    anthem,    the    victor's    song. 
The    people    come    and    the    people    go, 

And     the      harps    of    their     lives    are     with    discord 

[strung  ; 

But,    once    in   a    while,    God    sends    to    earth 
The    soul    of   a    singer    forever    voung. 


ROLL    ON. 

Roll    on,    O    river,    to    the    sea! — 

Roll    on,    and    on  ! 
My    soul,    to    vast    Eternity, 

Goes    on    and    on  ! 

And    when    at    last    the    angels    stand 
Upon    the    sea,    and    on    the    land, 
And    swear    that    time    no    more  shall    he, 
Thou    shalt    a    tiling    forgotten    he  ! — 
O,    river,    what    art    thou    to    me — 
Art    thou    to    me  ? 


ROLL    OX.  207 

Shine    on,    O    moonbeams,    cool    and   bright  !- — 

Shine    on    and    on  ! 
And    flood   the  earth    with  borrowed    light — 

Shine    on    and    on  ! 

Bnt,    when    the    hand    of   God    shall   roll 
The    clouded    heavens    like    a    scroll. — 
And    mine     is   vast    eternity — 
Thon    shalt    a   thing    forgotten    be  ! — 
Then    what    art    thou,    O    moon,    to    me — 
Art    thou   to    me  ? 


Wave  on,  O  proud  oak,  tall  and  high  ! — 
Wave  on  and  on  ! 

And  spread  thy  strong  arms  to  the  sky- 
Wave  on  and  on  ! 

Hut    one    small    century    is    thine, 

While    vast    eternity    is    mine. 

I    shall    God's    glorious    kingdom    see  ; 


2O8  ROLL      ON. 

But    thou,   a    thing    forgotten    be. 

Then    what,    tall  oak,    art    thou    to   me — 

Art    thou    to    me  ? 

O,   fair    green    earth,  beneath    my    tread. 

Bloom    on    and    on  ! 
And    hide    the    generations    dead — 

Bloom    on    and    on  ! 
Uprising    from  their    mighty    tomb, 
We    shall    behold    thy    fiery    doom, 
When    thou    shalt    dust   and    ashes    be  ! 
Then    what    art    thou,    O    earth,    to    ine- 
Art    thou    to    me  ? 


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